


In the Pursuit of Happiness

by mika_does_retcon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe - No Titan Shifters, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Cognitive Dissonance, Crying, Eventual Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Eren Yeager, Mentioned Mikasa Ackerman, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, Misunderstandings, Older Characters, One Shot, Post-Canon, Retcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mika_does_retcon/pseuds/mika_does_retcon
Summary: An emotional misunderstanding between them, inadvertently caused by Marco, forces Jean and Armin to realise and assess their feelings towards each other.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	In the Pursuit of Happiness

As the final student made his way out of the classroom door while bidding his instructor a cheerful farewell, Armin happily returned his student's pleasantry with a smile frozen on his features until the student ventured into the hall out of his eyesight. Only then did Armin's facial muscles return to a resting expression.

_Relief..._

Armin allowed his shoulders to slump from their rigid position and a small sigh to tumble from his mouth as an act of relaxing catharsis. Judging by the warm, honey-golden sunlight seeping through the windows and sculpting shapes in shadows on the wooden floor, the current time fell somewhere between mid-afternoon and early sunset. The clock in Armin's designated classroom broke months ago and the maintenance team delegated no equipment nor energy for its repairs. Thus, the intuitive blonde relied on sunlight to guide him through his daily schedule. 

The solitude from a lack of rowdy students eager to learn and disrupt their teacher, uptight co-workers magnetised to rules and regulations, or over-enthusiastic friends anticipating their much-needed weekend break was a luxury Armin seldom granted himself. Figuring he might as well enjoy the silence while it lasted, Armin wordlessly erased his notes and teaching material from the large blackboard spread along the wall. Each stroke of the eraser expelled powdered chalk like a physical metaphor of Armin suppressing each memory created from the current, more-than-difficult week that he had experienced. 

And, like a cruel (but not unwelcome) act of fate, Armin's short-lived quiet moment abruptly ended by none other than Marco - his coworker and friend. Marco cautiously searched the classroom in its student-less glory through the medium-sized opening of the door only to smile with friendly delight upon discovering Armin. Spending time with another person may have exacerbated Armin's looming dread, but Marco somewhat alleviated that stress. After all, someone like Marco was as harmless as they come. 

"Hey, Armin!" Marco greeted with idiosyncratic enthusiasm only the freckled man could emulate on a Friday afternoon. "Great work today!"

"Thanks, Marco, you too," Armin replied with commendation, with a tired, exasperated smile that widened Marco's own sympathetically. Multitasking the rest of his duties while debriefing with friends never troubled Armin, especially when Marco (or Jean, when he wasn't undertaking a week-long absence), accompanied him. Marco's natural consideration always perked him up in a way that would have him leaving the building with newfound positivity. 

"You had a pretty rough week, huh? With your students?" The brunette entered the classroom to approach the front of the podium Armin based himself behind when teaching his class. That podium represented an invisible, comforting wall that protected him from his students' scrutiny. 

"They've been unbelievably troublesome all week," Armin complained stressfully. The stress he had experienced all week caused anger and indignance to slowly bubble at his surface. This was concerning to the usually demure blonde as these emotions were entirely foreign to him. His students deliberately antagonised him with any chance they encountered this week to his breaking point; this usually involved Armin meekly excusing himself from the classroom, idling tensely in the hallway while the sounds of his students' irritating, skull piercing giggles haunted him. Armin halted his rough rubbing stationary in a single continuous circle on one place on the board - cleaning the blackboard while reliving frustrating memories was clearly not advisable. 

"How many detentions this time?" Marco prompted, tone sounding as if punishment were a routine Armin was forced to follow. And he was right, of course. 

"Um...six. Just for today. And you can only imagine the amount I've distributed throughout the week," Armin rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder to his friend supporting his weight with the teacher's podium. 

"Mm, I don't want to imagine. That sucks for you, though," he sighed. "Hopefully you haven't received too much extra paperwork to cover the detentions."

"It becomes normal after a while. At the beginning of the year, I would have received so many questions about their conduct, my conduct, other teachers' conduct, but I think everybody just accepts their bad behaviour...unfortunately," Armin vented, overcome with memories of his superiors' judgement over whether his teaching skills would be suitable for the next generation. Their stellar exam scores reflected Armin's teaching, thus leading the superiors to relinquish their doubts. Armin forced himself to lighten up to avoid dragging Marco's mood down with his. "Thank God it's the weekend, right?" Armin hummed wistfully. 

Nothing comprehensible could compare to the blonde's excitement for the short break from his teenaged cohort. The two days would instantly begin and end before he could experience their time to the fullest. Though his days would be inevitably filled with barely enough downtime to recharge, inventing new material for his classes and to be presented with clarity and simplicity, Armin was thankful that his identity as a teacher, and an analyst for the Survey Corps, was solely reserved for weekdays. 

"Your students are probably acting up because Jean hasn't been here all week," Marco attempted to reason with their behaviour, but coloured with slight embarrassment and hurriedly tried to clarify his statement to avoid offending Armin. "Not that you can't handle them by yourself, of course!" 

However, Armin wasn't fazed because Marco's assumption held truth. The students of their shared cohort rarely defied or rebelled Jean due to his piercing, unforgiving bronze eyes accompanying naturally harsh body language, perdurable scowl scaring the students into quiet submission over Armin's shoulder during class time. No matter the chagrin he felt towards the cohort's feigned interest (every single lesson, Armin included with slight dejection) in their essential studies, Armin remained grateful for Jean and his no-nonsense approach for discipline. Apart from Jean's innate method to force authority, their underlings perceived his professionally assigned position as the group's commander a higher position of authority and deserving of respect than Armin, who was a simple analyst. Jean's accompanying analyst. 

Their meticulously functioning partnership, enviable from students, familiars and superiors alike, was a rare display of support, teamwork and friendship that genuinely worked. Armin would have never predicted that somebody like Jean would be easy or enthusiastic to work with, but he would not change the outcome of their friendship or career for anything in the world. 

From sixteen, Armin found that peers and superiors' off-handed compliments towards their teamwork occurred on a more frequent basis. Jean discovered those comments, too, and must have taken them to heart as he was the catalyst for their determined discussions of assuming leadership roles together after graduation. From the moment Armin turned eighteen, their applications were submitted and immediately accepted. Utter elation that practically blinded Armin threatened to consume him upon realising he would be working with one of his closest friends every single day. From then on, and every day afterwards, he'd continuously become astonished at their successful duo. 

Missions and expeditions, meetings for reports and presentations with superiors and acting as the head of all operations where he was concerned were Jean's main roles as commander, and Armin constantly admired how naturally his leadership befitted him. The crass, sensitive and utterly capricious man he'd known for almost ten years never failed to impress his command onto people - mundane citizens and unfamiliar scouts alike. But Armin never doubted Jean's brilliance, particularly as his analyst. Armin's primary responsibilities remained behind the scenes of operations, including handling planning and intelligence tasks and communicating with other departments. Everything was approached as a team effort, however. 

Armin couldn't recall a single moment where they hadn't worked in sync, or without each other, which is predominantly where his frustration stemmed from. Though unnecessary to his schedule, Jean attended Armin's technical and academic lessons for their students not only to familiarise himself with the material but mainly to provide discipline. Cleaning the blackboard that day took up half the original time the task required, finding Armin barely wrote as much as he usually did. Upon looking back to the lesson, he'd discovered - due to tirelessly spending a majority of class either flusteredly imploring his students for attention or contemplating organising a surplus session of physical combat training to burn off hormonal energy - he had barely touched upon the lesson plan for that afternoon. 

Thankfully, to assist Armin through Jean's absence, Marco had been assigned as a substitute teacher for physical combat training, as well as completing the end of week report with Armin. Leaders and important members of the Survey Corps alike were required to complete and submit this weekly report which would more often than not end up squashed and neglected in a filing cabinet in an office elsewhere. Grateful tears were almost shed from the blonde when he learned that. And while Marco's immovable sense of positivity assured Armin he'd help handle his students, he wasn't surprised when Marco left his first training session on Monday with a sour, remarkably Jean-like scowl painting his face. 

Needless to say, without Jean's unique method of forcing their students to behave, Armin settled for Marco's more empathetic support during the week.

"They're an...excitable group, as you witnessed!" From the hesitant adjective, Armin laughed as the freckled brunette's light expression suddenly dropped with a piqued eye roll. 

"Excitable isn't exactly the word _I'd_ use, Armin," Marco replied dryly. 

"It's the nicest word I allow myself to use while I'm on duty," he justified, stepping back from the blackboard once he deemed the condition clean and acceptable for Monday morning, where he'd inevitably discover crude and derogatory graffiti (because Armin's hiding place for the chalk would be discovered again) drawn by his students. "Anyway, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Are you ready?"

"Mhm; let's go do that report, then we can finally go home," Marco confirmed, leading the way out of Armin's classroom and sliding the door shut behind them. 

Armin didn't identify with the word 'procrastinator' until he was introduced to the weekly report. Marco's diligence motivated him that lazy afternoon. Jean, on the other hand, brazenly encouraged that hidden trait in their time together. Their routine involved completing half of the report at Jean's apartment (due to the amount of trust they'd gained from their superiors over the years) before wilfully becoming distracted by preparing dinner together, forgetting the report until Monday morning. Only then would they frantically rush to complete it before the deadline. 

Unfortunately, Marco didn't possess that level of trust with their, thus forcing the completion of their report to stay in the building for collection on the Monday morning deadline. 

Leaving the stuffy classrooms inspired a spontaneous wave of nostalgia in Armin. The layout, design and overall aura of the building ceased to be affected by time or change in his perspective from his growth from a meek, unconfident teenaged soldier to a sanguinely self-assured adult. Bathing in the warm spring sunlight and accepting its fresh air reminded him why he loved to return week after horrible week. Armin immensely loved his job despite its rampant challenges. With no signs of additional life, the hallways remained quiet, so Armin and Marco didn't bother to censor the noise or content of their conversation. 

"Being in the school takes you back to our training days, doesn't it? Those unventilated classrooms were absolutely awful," Marco remarking seeming to read his train of thoughts. With a light stretch, Marco smiled down at the smaller blonde with a familiar expression that inspired another wave of nostalgia. As Armin nod in agreement, he allowed his mind to sink deeper into itself and conjure memories of his first encounters with the brunette in these same hallways.

Marco had been a close, close friend for years - beginning from their shared time in the same class. They often cleaned and repaired their 3D maneuver gear, a feat that hadn't been discontinued after graduation. Ranking in a high position of importance or authority never occurred to Marco but he enjoyed being involved with the Survey Corps, thus, Marco took on a substitute role to freely slot into places he was needed. Now, the time they spent together became more and more scarce as they each passionately launched themselves into work and becoming preoccupied with their careers in the Survey Corps. The old group he'd spent so much valuable time with had disbanded years ago - Marco, and in particular, Jean, remained constant presences in Armin's life. Sometimes, on particularly lonely days, Armin would be overwhelmed with the desire to experience their trainee days, and his close-knit friendship group, once more. 

But, those past memories would always be treasured. 

Marco's familiar appearance went practically unchanged throughout the years. Aside from the typical male pubertal growth spurt and developmental muscle tone and definition, other distinguishable features such as his typical straight hair, irremovable (most of the time, anyway) smile on his lips and the number of freckles - none gained, none lost - held fast to his mien. Marco's omnipresent rays of positivity in his life contrasted against his best friend's sullen frown, which was often the inspiration to Marco's and Armin's jokes.

Armin knew he'd scarcely changed himself. Though he grew taller, everybody still managed to tower over his modest height. One thing Armin didn't find insecurity about was the hardening, angular development of his facial structure to appear more masculine and mature, or his reliable hairstyle. Diligently, Armin kept his hair at the same length since he was a child, though in the warmer weather preferred to pin one or two sections of hair off of his face, or neatly tie a single section behind his head. Any style more intricate or feminine usually resulted in light-hearted teasing received from his students and Jean alike. _That_ , Armin recalled with an internal, rankled sigh, _is something I learned the hard way._

"Definitely. Those kids remind me of our training days too," Armin continued with a miffed expression. "Although, I like to think that we were a little more well behaved than my cohort." 

"We were absolutely better behaved than your cohort," Marco laughed earnestly. 

Years ago, so far that Armin could barely cohesively piece together the events even though they took place right in front of his young eyes, the Titans created the initial breach in his home village. His duty, as well as the duty of the entire 104th Training Class, was to create the new generation of soldiers to protect humanity against the Titans. Miraculously, Titan activity decreased, and the two major catalysts that could have exterminated everybody within the walls were never discovered. Outside of the walls were practically barren, too, no matter how many new expeditions of exploration the Survey Corps undertook. Armin, to this day, had never seen a Titan in its flesh aside from the day they invaded. 

Those walls remained as a safety precaution. 

Every scout, no matter what legion, collectively abandoned their fear-laced bravery once the word spread. The Survey Corps continued to explore the expansive world and its treasures, however, but at a highly diminished recruitment rate. This year's class - the 110th Training Class - would have barely one hundred scouts; a tenth of the population of Armin's enormous graduating class. It was interesting to watch leaderships change over the years, eventually leading to relaxed policies and rules for everybody. The current students cognised this and managed to endlessly push against their more lenient instructors. 

"Things were a lot different six years ago," he acknowledged, voice ruefully soft and sentimental. "It's my fault for allowing them to get away with a lot of their bad behaviour; I ignore a lot in vain of not replicating our experiences." Aware he needed to be stricter with discipline, Armin guilted himself every time he was unable to teach his class properly, or Jean automatically stepped up to assist him. 

"You're a good teacher, Armin. This is your first year taking on a cohort so no-one expects you to be an expert. You've created an environment that they feel safe enough to act like, well, kids. It's definitely frustrating, I get it, but I can guarantee that they'll appreciate you when they mature," Marco predicted wholeheartedly. 

"I hope so," the blonde mused in response. For now, the idea that his students would calm and be disciplined overnight without Jean's influence would be nothing more than a daydream. "Thank you for saying that."

"No problem! And, between you and me, I reckon that because they feel more at ease with you, they like you better than Jean," Marco divulged, voice suddenly diminishing to a low hush as if he were afraid that Jean was suddenly lurking in the halls like a beast and react with offence. 

His fear was unessential, however. Jean acknowledged and shared Marco's sentiment time, and time again without jealousy. Armin was their students' main teacher so it was only natural for him to grow closer to them. The friendly mentoring relationship Armin had with their students severely outweighed the countless times those kids drove him to frustrated tears. They learned Armin's reactions remained reliable, thus instilled with more confidence to approach him with personal issues. 

"You think so?" Armin questioned, happily bashful.

"No doubt about it. Jean and I both wish we had an instructor as understanding as you when we were younger!" Marco's hopelessly sincere response embarrassed him, cheeks flushing a burning red. 

"Th-Thank you..." Though embarrassed at the well-meaning compliment, hearing his two closest friends held such high opinions of his teaching methods pleased Armin greatly; especially factoring in Jean's intangible agreement. Armin's respect for Jean resonated on a professional and amicable level, so hearing a commander of his respect hold such an opinion made the remark all the more special. 

"I'm sure Sasha and Connie would have appreciated a more sympathetic commander, too, instead of suffering through Shardis' unforgiving rage for years," he added, large brown eyes softening at the memory of their two class clowns.

While undeserved as an overreaction from their naturally immature dispositions, the couples' treatment eventually led to disowning their positions as soldiers and the Survey Corps altogether. Their presences were large, loud personalities that Armin missed interacting with daily. Humour was difficult to emulate or detect in such studious, tumultuous times, but Sasha and Connie never failed to lift his - or anyone's - spirits. Armin was grateful that neither Connie nor Sasha despised himself, Jean or Marco, to continue their careers with the Survey Corps. In fact, upon leaving, they ensured to reside in a district close to the base to keep in touch. 

"Wasn't Sasha ordered to run fifty laps after sneaking food during initiation?" Armin recalled humorously, tapping his finger on his chin. 

"Yeah - she snuck in a goddamn potato!" Marco laughed fondly at the flood memories of their friend. "She still can't look at a potato without experiencing a tinge of post-traumatic stress. I saw it on her face last month when we were at Jean's place for dinner and she saw a sack of potatoes in the kitchen. At least Jean had the sense to put them away after she noticed." 

"And Connie still flinches whenever somebody, even Sasha, attempts to touch his head," Armin added, disquieted about his trauma. 

"They really were targeted the most out of all of us," The taller man mused, and Armin couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree. The amount of physical abuse and forced exercise drills the couple were required to undertake during detentions and punishments took a large toll on them until their spirits were ultimately broken once graduation occurred. They accepted their positions among the Top 10 graduates of their class and promptly abandoned the Survey Corps. 

"I'm glad they left, in all honesty. I feel like they're more suited to living in a village together working mundane jobs. If the Survey Corps were still fighting Titans when they existed, they would probably appreciate the excitement and sacrifice a lot more," he assumed. "They seem a lot happier now than ever. Those two are practically made for each other." Armin was never usually sentimental, but something about witnessing the love and unwavering affection Connie and Sasha shared between them melted his heart. 

Marco scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. "Out of our whole group, we were the only two who weren't constantly in trouble. Between Connie's and Sasha's typical antics, and Jean's quick-temperedness managing to continuously clash with Eren-"

Immediately, Armin felt a sharp, cold feeling in his stomach, forcing it to sink as if Marco carelessly dropped him from a tall cliff. It was like his body ceased to function normally when the name of his old childhood best friend cursed his eardrums, barely catching his sense of balance. Tension so, so thick accompanied the two scouts in the silent hallway. Armin became terrified it created a blockage in his trachea rendering him unable to freely breathe. Why was Armin still reacting with such powerful anxiety at the mere mention of his old best friend? He - somebody who was usually in tune with his own emotions - possessed the inability to calm his anxiety or take the time to reassure a surely guilt-ridden Marco that his slip-up was okay. 

Marco sucked in a harsh breath, halting his walking pace when Armin steadied himself following his unintentional stumble. Silence permeated the area as Armin stared at the ground, and Marco stared at him to gauge a reaction. "I...I'm so sorry, Armin, I didn't mean to bring him up..." He furiously apologised, face crimson with guilt. "Are you okay?"

Before the freckled brunette's accidental slip-up, it had been almost a year since somebody referenced Eren, Armin's former best friend, in conversation. Hate or betrayal should exist instead of anxiety and sadness, but Armin couldn't forget the bond he and Eren (and Mikasa, of course) shared. 

Eren never truly emotionally recovered following his mother's gruesome death right in front of his eyes. His decline only became worse when Titan activity was reported to be non-existent. Like a sadistic conspiracy theorist, unabashedly unhinged from his mind and reality around him, Eren refused to believe that he - and his remaining family and friends - were safe from the Titans. Paranoia slowly consumed him, while everybody gradually accepted the lack of activity, and admonished their own fear mere months after the Titans' onslaught. Everybody knew how he felt; he carried it as though it were written on his forehead. Armin couldn't stand watching his friend fall victim to his grief over time, nor could any of the other scouts. Even Jean, who hated Eren's entire being to the present day, managed some sympathy and concern. 

Unfortunately, because nobody but Mikasa would enable his plight, Eren became much too aggressive to the point where he'd emotionally unload onto Armin with mean, cruel, and borderline manipulative words. Eren may have wanted his friendship, but he needed to feel as though his closest confidants agreed with his paranoia about the Titans. Deep in his heart, Armin knew he was hurting and dealt with Eren until his sympathy transformed to fierce resentment towards his childhood friends. 

The place intended to serve and protect humanity suddenly transformed into a battleground for three friends. Armin spent countless days and nights, stretching into weeks and months, wracked with guilt because this was the first time he didn't understand Eren's thoughts. Reaching out to others to form friendships was actively discouraged by Eren, too. There wasn't a day that passed without Eren reacting with contempt under the assumption Armin was abandoning him.

Eren and Mikasa continued to band together, making Armin feel like he was betraying them for not aligning with them. 

Remembering the day their friendship finally ended still plagued Armin with depression and misery. After maturing enough to reflect back, Armin couldn't help but feel embarrassed because of the fiery, uncontrolled, and enraged person he'd become during the argument in the courtyard - in front of the entirety of the 104th Training Class to witness. Many awful insults, threats of violence, and horrible phrases Armin had never repeated to this day were exchanged, thus, marking the resolution of the well-known trio. Eren and Mikasa left the base with no indication of their travel plans, their future location, or goodbye to anybody the very next day. It hurt Armin for a long, long time.

Armin's new friends, his best friends and trusted confidants to this day, unwaveringly supported him from the moment he'd been abandoned, especially Jean, who had never left his side. Though it had been broken many times, part of that support was accepting the unspoken rule that Eren and Mikasa were never mentioned around Armin. It became easier to handle the despair; even now, Armin found he was only temporarily wounded. 

"Don't worry about it, Marco! It's alright!" Armin hurried to reassure his friend, adorning a smile to adequately demonstrate his composure. "It happened over six years ago, now. It's not important anymore."

"Are you sure?" The brunette's shame almost appeared as though he were more upset about Eren's name being spoken than Armin was. 

"Yes, absolutely," Armin gently promised. "It was an accident; we were just reminiscing."

"I'm glad you feel better about the whole situation," he remarked.

"Thanks, Marco. As I said, the whole thing happened six years ago so it would be counterproductive to still be as upset as I was then," he accepted with a shrug, completely sincere. 

Armin would be forever indebted to them for warmly and eagerly accepting him under their wings at his lowest point in life. Connie and Sasha taught him to laugh again, and Marco's tenderness secured him. Without stealing from the others' accomplishments, Jean remained loyal, assuring, and accepting of his melancholy from the moment Eren and Mikasa began to turn against him. Jean didn't care about how embarrassing Armin's emotional outburst may have been because he was the one to break up the fight. Jean was the one who calmed him with muttered, angry assurances - as though he were slighted by Eren, too - of how Eren wasn't worth the energy Armin put forth. Jean was the one who took him to a quiet room in the dorm and let him cry out every single bit of his frustration, silently reassuring him that he wasn't alone. 

It made him feel...wanted. 

With what sounded like a sigh of relief that he hadn't completely ruined Armin's weekend before it began, Marco finally dropped the subject at Armin's discretion. "How do you plan to spend your weekend? After dealing with your students throughout the week, I'm impressed you don't come into work with a hangover every Monday," he joked, though Armin assumed Marco had just obliviously disclosed his own plans. 

"I'm probably going to spend it with Jean...as usual," Armin detailed. The simple reminder of spending his precious decompressing time with Jean was all he needed to lighten his mood. 

This was the typical routine they had conveniently fallen into over several years even though they saw each other every day at work. Armin never perceived the amount of time he and Jean spent together unusual because of their perfectly identical schedules, status as immediate colleagues and friends. In fact, without Jean this week, Armin experienced just how abnormal his life became! Every encounter was shockingly eye-opening, as every single person, he interacted with, before the pleasantries or the work discussions, questioned Jean's whereabouts missing by his side.

"Sounds fun!" Marco's encouragement elicited contrition within him. Jean and Marco were friends first - best friends, in fact - so it was only natural for Armin to feel as though he were stealing Jean's time all to himself without extending an invite to Marco. Albeit a real possibility, Armin reassured himself that Marco was a grown man who was capable of organising Jean's time by himself. And, occasionally, when everybody's schedules appropriately lined up, Marco, Sasha and Connie would join them at Jean's apartment. 

"I'm sure Jean will want a detailed report of our cohort's behaviour throughout the week," Armin explained, cheeks reddening slightly at imagining Jean's concern turn to indignance once he learned about their behaviour. "If I don't tell him, he'll see the detention reports, but I really don't want him to pick on every single thing they did wrong."

"Sounds like him. He knows you'll cover for them," Marco correctly indicated before continuing with some advice. "Don't underemphasise their bad behaviour too much, Armin. Jean is only concerned because he believes you're entitled to more respect than you receive. But, regardless, I'll back up whatever you decide to say to him."

"I appreciate that," Armin commended with immense gratitude. "He might take your word over mine. I can practically hear his ropeable speech on Monday, about how he 'can't trust them to behave responsibly without him for a week'. He uses 'responsible' a lot. I see the number of eye rolls the students send each other every time he says it."

"How is Jean's schedule for next week?" By the time their conversation had moved away from their students, they had exited the school to make their way to the offices. The general courtyard, where they had spent a lot of time in as scouts, was populated by a scarce amount of students; none of who Armin recognised. 

"I assume it'll be back to normal, but I was only able to speak to Jean for a few seconds all week so I can't say for certain," Armin elucidated much to Marco's surprise. 

"You haven't? Even I managed to have a proper conversation with him at some point," he frowned in contemplation. The confused tone wasn't lost on Armin because he was equally as confused. "He must have been super busy if he wasn't able to even go and see you. How many meetings were he required to attend?"

"If it kept him from interacting with our cohort, then too many," Armin justified.

Meetings with their superiors usually only required Jean's presence, though as an unspoken allowance, Armin always attended alongside his brunette commander. Jean never failed to ask for Armin's input and contribution to the discussion. When disappointing instructions informed the duo that Armin would not be required for meetings that entire week, plus excusing Jean from his teaching duties, the analyst couldn't help but dejectedly ruminate to himself that perhaps their superiors would permanently bar Armin's attendance at meetings. 

The opportunity to inquire about his assumptions never arouse as Armin was never granted the opportunity to properly converse with Jean. From a distance, Armin always watched Jean emerge from the meeting rooms embittered beyond a level that Armin had witnessed him emulate in the past. Armin would have loved to learn the source of his bitterness but Jean's questioning about his well-being, his workload, and their students in their brief conversation kept him from investigating. No matter what, Jean always managed to crack a spirited smile upon meeting his eyes. 

"You can ask him tonight, if he wants to talk about it," Marco suggested, opening the door to the office. The bright sun immediately greeted them from the windows like a stalker following their movement through the building.

Smiling at his friend, Armin entered the room and waited for Marco to follow him inside after closing the door behind them. "I probably will," he agreed. 

The office was one of Armin's favourite places to be at the end of the day. Not only did the room have functionally opening windows, unlike the classrooms, but scouts rarely enjoyed loitering after hours rendering the space quiet. Armin recalled the first time he was exposed to the office as one of his superiors listed his responsibilities as a cohort leader. Assuming he'd never fit in with the experienced scouts when he was younger, Armin internally dreaded Fridays because of the responsibility even when Jean accompanied him. Marco's main substitute responsibilities were with administration, so having a friend alleviated Armin's anxiety about working in the office. 

"I'm still surprised you weren't allowed to participate like you usually do," Marco commented as he invited Armin to sit down at a desk closest to the filing cabinet. "But I suppose if your time was consumed with meetings, your students would have been left alone all week."

"You're probably right about that," Armin noted, but he couldn't help but feel dejected like their superiors were explicitly hiding something from him. "Or maybe it was confidential."

"Jean would tell you at a later date. He can't keep anything from you because he would feel too bad to keep secrets," Marco argued. Meanwhile, he scoured through the filing cabinets where the report templates were stored. Armin busied himself by inspecting various small items on the desk. Nobody, in particular, owned this desk, but the decorations intrigued him. One in particular that cause his interest was a small, bronze Wings of Freedom plaque that balanced against a small lantern. He traced over each line and indent in the metal, inwardly proud to wear the emblem on his uniform each day. 

"I hope so," Armin agreed, glancing back up at Marco when he seemed to locate the proper file. 

"Oh! Maybe the meetings were regarding Jean's transfer," Marco suggested with an air of nonchalance so casual that Armin almost dismissed his words. 

But when he deciphered his words, Armin felt the blood instantaneously run ice cold through his veins. 

"Transfer?" Armin's voice breathlessly released from his throat. 

_What?_

"Yeah. To the Military Police? He was offered a position Monday morning!" He informed, pulling two sheets from the folder and replaced it within the filing cabinet. 

Armin became suddenly unable to breathe, as though his heart painfully ceased to beat in his chest. 

"M-M-Military Police?" He struggled not to drop the plaque in his hands, and instead shakily placed it back onto the wooden desk. 

_Since when?_

Marco must have heard the shakiness in his reply because he sent him an inquisitive frown. "Yeah - immediate contract and all. You spoke to him after Monday, right? Did he decide not to accept?"

The time that Armin encountered Jean, even though the conversation lasted mere seconds, Jean had not once mentioned a possible transfer. In his state of shock, Armin felt an indescribable amount of emotions rush through him, but none of them helped restart his heart or unfreeze his blood, nor could he individually distinguish each emotion. They clumped together in his chest, while Jean's familiar grin and his hurried, but purposeful, greeting throughout the week swirled through Armin's head. Armin didn't recall possible excitement peeking through Jean's frequently drained expression after his meetings, so when was he planning on sharing this well-kept secret? How could Jean not inform Armin that he was transferring to a completely different section? Especially the sector on bad terms with the Survey Corps! Especially the sector of his dreams!

"It's not that, but...Jean never told me," he mumbled, slowly averting his eyes from Marco to instead vigilantly focus on the empty shadowed corner of the room. In fact, the entire room was gradually cloaked in a shadow as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. 

Immediately affected by his worsened mood and confused, shocked demeanour, Marco awkwardly fumbled in front of the desk. He looked like he wanted to follow the sun's example and hide to avoid becoming mixed up in whatever he had accidentally unleashed. "Oh...shit," Marco winced. "I'm sorry, I-"

"-don't be; it's not your fault," Armin immediately dismissed, voice quiet and hollow.

"I thought he would have told you of all people, you know?" Marco justified, preparing the pens and ink used to fill in their reports. However, the blonde was in no hurry to begin in favour of collecting his emotions and thoughts. "Especially since you mentioned you spoke to him..."

"He mentioned nothing about a transfer, or a contract. Nothing," Armin repeated, more to himself than to his friend. "He, um, probably wasn't thinking about that when we spoke and was concerned about our students instead."

Armin couldn't disguise how he felt utterly, utterly hurt and betrayed. This was more than simple betrayal once Marco exposed Jean's secret. God, even simply imagining his life without Jean next to him every day, supporting each other through anything and everything, forced Armin to question just how significant their friendship was to Jean if he couldn't mention the news in passing. Yet, despite the information Jean withheld and the strong betrayal Armin experienced, he couldn't help but feel that deep down, another cause contributing to his emotional state. But, shaking his head, he didn't want to think about anything but working up the nerve to finish the report and eventually face Jean at the end of the night. 

"He was probably planning on telling you tonight," Marco assumed with hopeless positivity. It felt bitter on his brain, however. "There's no way he wouldn't."

"Was he excited when he told you?" Armin couldn't decide if his own questioning stemmed from a place of genuine curiosity or digging for information he wasn't sure he was entitled to. 

"I think so. He was super shocked, too. I don't see why he should be; he's been dreaming of this since the moment I met him when we were still training recruits and frankly, he deserves it," Marco gushed happily. 

Numbness spread through Armin's body, mind completely devoid of any thought except to keep his breathing even to disguise his unhappiness from Marco. "He has, hasn't he?" Armin could barely muster anything above a light murmur. 

"He must have been using his extra time aside from the daily meetings to sort out the details," Marco considered. "Don't worry about it, Armin. I'm sure Jean was planning on telling you tonight. I doubt he'd purposefully keep something this big from you, don't you think?"

"Yeah, Jean wouldn't do that," Armin concurred, voice strained painfully with indistinct confliction. 

To Jean, joining the Military Police Brigade at the request of their superiors was a huge, huge deal - something he'd been externally passionate about for his entire life. Most scouts in the 104th Training Class characterised Jean through his goal as he non-stop exclaimed his target position always with a smug grin and self-assured attitude. Armin observed Jean's priorities change over the years, but his friend's determined drive never perished, just laid dormant within him. 

Armin longed to feel pride in Jean's efforts of advancing towards his initial dream, but something inside him physically and mentally blocked him from expressing his true happiness. He figured that once he detached himself from the self-centred resentment he felt upon learning the information Jean purposely withheld, excitement and pride would ultimately consume him. The persistent tingling in Armin's stomach somewhat assured him that the shock he originally reacted with was melting away, expecting to be replaced by excitement. Jean was his closest, and probably best, friend, so it was only natural for Armin to be proud!

So, why did the lump in his throat only grow larger and larger?

"When did Jean tell you?" Though Armin tried to write his best with his pen, he found that his limbs were trembling too much to write a neat, legible sentence. From excitement, of course, Armin internally repeated in a mantra-like fashion. 

"He only told me in passing on Monday," Marco recalled. 

"Oh," Armin accepted.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I had a meeting in the same room after him, and I managed to overhear some of what happened," he continued. 

"Oh," Armin accepted again. There was nothing else he could do. 

"That's all I know, though. You should ask him when you see him tonight," Marco prompted with a smile, returning to his report. 

Suddenly, with a sickening lurch in his stomach, Armin pictured Jean's animated expression upon divulging the details of his transfer. It was inevitable, no matter how avoidant Armin became, and willed for excitement to sweep him away. Or at least the excitement he attempted to trick himself into feeling. 

"I will," Armin agreed with a hushed voice. 

The rest of the afternoon kept Armin in a trance-like state, his blurry perception rendering him dizzy, but without motion sickness. Despite every organ and fibre in his being resisting the urge to think about him, Jean, in his usual effervescent and slightly obnoxious manner, occupied his mind. And it stung him, inside and out. Armin never did feel the excitement he so longed to adorn for his friend, but what upset him was the unclear motive for his lack of emotion. Deciding to leech vicarious excitement off of Jean when he'd inevitably dump the amazing news on him, Armin aimed to surprise Jean instead, hoping to cheer himself up. His thoughts consumed him until he left the building, bidding Marco a simple, distracted farewell.

* * *

The man that intrusively occupied Armin's mind arrived at the office fifteen minutes after he'd left, forcefully flinging the creaky, wooden door open without any regard for injuring anybody on the other side, nor distracting lone scouts completing the last of their paperwork for the week. He was plagued with fatigue and irritation due to the near-constant meetings he'd been scheduled for throughout the week. Unlike Armin, who bravely and single-handedly dealt with their immature, undisciplined teenaged students in a stuffy classroom, Jean suffered through lectures and arguments with his equally as immature superiors, in an equally stuffy meeting room.

The afternoon breeze didn't relax him in the slightest, but rather filled him with impatience for the weekend to begin. 

Jean had only Armin on his mind as his pale, brown eyes immediately scanned the golden-hued room, eyes squinting against the harsh afternoon sun. Jean expelled a vexed sigh with evident disappointment when he wasn't able to locate the smaller man. Spending time with Armin after work truly was the highlight of Jean's entire week; the blonde so easily provided him with the opportunity to be calm and relinquish his leadership responsibilities just for a single moment. Nothing Armin consciously did attribute to Jean's emotional state, but rather his undemanding, yet encouraging, presence settled his louder one. 

Marco caught his gaze towards the back of the room, who sat at the desk finishing what Jean assumed was the mandatory weekly report scouts were instructed to complete. Luckily - and this was the only positive event in Jean's week - he was exempted from this report as he did not interact with his students once. Marco had not glanced up from his report as though he was accustomed to the obscene chaos and rambunctious noise Jean provided. In fact, Marco expected and welcomed it. Not to mention, judging by the lasting frown on Marco's face, he appeared just as exhausted and itching to return home as Jean felt.

"Hey there, Marco," Jean greeted, discarding his disappointment at not finding Armin with a grin. He continued his overt entry into the room with the boisterous slam of the door behind him. 

"Hi, Jean," Marco replied flatly, not fussed by his intrusion. "I thought you would have gone home by now."

"I was curious to see if anybody else was here. So far, you're the first and only one," Jean mentioned. Truthfully, he was looking to see if Armin had left, but he wasn't unhappy about conversing with his long-time friend. 

"I'm not surprised. This report takes up so much time," he complained, flicking through the sheets he had already transcribed upon. The neat, diligent cursive written in long paragraphs forced Jean to stifle his overdue advice of limiting the entries to singular sentences. Their superiors couldn't give two shits about reading each report, much less every entry. With the combination of completing the report as a substantial routine, and being granted permission to take the paperwork home after the trust was built up, Jean could practically fill it out in his sleep. 

Marco didn't have that experience. 

"You could have taken the papers home with you and returned them early before collection," Jean suggested helpfully, leaning against the edge of the desk. "That way you don't have to do unnecessary overtime. I know you're not allowed, but I'm sure no-one would have found out if you broke the rules."

"Armin was happy to complete his here with me, so I had no reason to take it home. Besides, I'm almost done anyway," Marco interjected. 

Referring to Armin managed to resurface Jean's dormant guilt. The rescheduling, while completely out of his control, put the onus on Armin to single-handedly deal with their cohort, and their unfair treatment against him. No matter Armin's defensive insistence against it, Jean would absolutely deliver a stern lecture regarding their disrespect and irresponsibility. It wasn't enough to account for his absence and lack of support, but Jean figured that walking to his own apartment together as though he were performing some heroic act of 'saving' Armin from their workplace would somewhat cheer Armin up. Armin had already left, which put a damper on Jean's plans. 

"Speaking of Armin, is he still here?" Jean's curious question prompted him to glance around the room as though the blonde was hiding in a corner and would jump out to shock his unsuspecting friend.

"No, I think he went home, or to your place," Marco guessed, glancing up from his report for the first time that afternoon. "He finished really quickly, and he only left around fifteen minutes ago."

"Damn, I must have just missed him, then," he sighed. If Jean had left his last meeting for the day a little earlier, he could have intercepted Armin earlier, much to Jean's displeasure. He could picture Armin waiting for him with a gloomy, lugubrious expression, bursting with the annoyances their testy students had put him through. At least the confirmed plans for the evening, something Jean was strangely eager for, enabled him to see Armin later. 

"Probably. I'll still be here for another hour, though," Marco estimated as the other brunette sat back into the chair Armin had been occupying fifteen minutes beforehand. 

"It usually takes me and Armin a few hours, too," Jean assured his freckled friend. Of course, he didn't factor in the procrastination he and Armin experienced, but he wasn't about to announce that to Marco. Upon hearing his comforting words, Marco visibly relaxed. Jean couldn't imagine how hard this entire week was for Marco, as he had the tendency to throw himself into any given situation with an extreme amount of vigour and determination. Marco would have done his best to compensate for Jean's usual efforts, so for that, Jean wholeheartedly appreciated him and would probably be indebted to him. 

Jean leaned forward on the desk with a soft smile. "Hey, thanks for helping Armin out this week," he expressed with a tone so unfeigned, uncharacteristically so, that Marco was taken aback for a moment. "He would have been completely overwhelmed without somebody there to support him, so, thank you. Really."

"You don't need to thank me!" A pleased flush dusted his cheeks, dismissing Jean's words modestly. "Armin's my friend, of course I'd be more than happy to help. And I didn't mind filling in for your absence, either."

"How did you go this week? I assume the students were a lot more 'spirited' than you expected," Jean surmised with emphatic sarcasm

"They were alright," Marco answered noncommittally. He had predicted Marco would follow Armin's lead and downplay their behaviour, leading to Jean frowning, not impressed. He could only imagine what Armin experienced while teaching and Jean couldn't wait to get his hands on the detention reports to embark on some justifiable discipline. 

"Marco," the taller brunette cajoled bluntly. 

"I don't know how you deal with those shits every day," Marco exclaimed as he abandoned his nonchalant mask. "I don't know how Armin does it! He has to be the most patient man on this earth because he hasn't lost it and yelled at them yet."

"That's because yelling is my job. He's too sweet, not to mention, I think the kids would be devastated if Armin decided to yell one day," Jean replied humorously. 

The treatment Armin grudgingly accepted every single day not only angered Jean on an authoritarian level but on a personal level, too. As far as Jean was concerned, Armin did not deserve the lack of consideration or respect. No matter how many detentions he dished out, or how many times he remained silent behind the podium with an attempt at a threatening scowl, or how many come-to-Jesus conversations Armin gently engaged the students in, nothing except for Jean's fierceness managed to silence them. Evidently, even Marco couldn't convince them to listen.

Admittedly, Jean didn't hate the role of intimidating a group of teenagers every day, and to help Armin, he would embrace it. To conjure an appropriate amount of disdain, Jean would channel his frustration and indignation from his time as a student and replicate tougher commanders he disliked. Regardless of his enjoyment, jean simultaneously wished his relationship with his students emulated Armin's; full of endless compassion and nurturing. But somebody had to be the bad guy and Jean was more than capable of adapting to the position to help Armin. 

"Actually, speaking of Armin, could I ask you a favour?" Marco interrupted his train of thought with his hopeful request. 

"Of course," Jean readily accepted. "What do you need?"

Marco slid another copy of the report across the desk in front of Jean. It was Armin's, judging by his typical messy, illegible writing. "If you don't mind taking work home after the week you've had, could you make some sense of his writing? I can't read it," he detailed. 

"I don't mind at all, Marco. This is why I do the transcribing," Jean chuckled comically. The brown-eyed man's smile widened nostalgically as he scanned the mess. 

Armin's penmanship improved only a fraction over the past six years. The first time Jean's eyes were assaulted by his scribbles was when he asked to borrow his notes to help study for an upcoming test while they were still cadets in training. Legitimately believing Armin was playing a stupid joke on him at the time, Jean expressed disbelief that a bookish individual like the smaller blonde possessed the writing talent of a four-year-old. What made matters worse was Armin himself couldn't understand his own writing. The genuine confusion on Armin's face made him realise he was legitimately experiencing trouble deciphering his scribbles.

Why Armin wrote notes in the first place never ceased to baffle Jean. 

Luckily, Armin didn't take offence. However, the onus was on Jean to write notes and assignments they worked on together until graduation. Images, graphs, and diagrams - along with sheets of notes and material Jean wrote - were the primary mediums Armin used while he was teaching his classes. It really worked; their students' stellar grades reflected Armin's effective tutoring methods. Jean managed to feel some sort of pride for the brats; they were his (and Armin's) brats after all. 

"That makes a lot of sense," Marco rolled his eyes, returning to his report with a lot less stress and a lot more ease. Without bragging, that was just the natural ability Jean had; to put people at ease. That was his job as a commander. 

"I'll talk to Ar tonight and have it rewritten before the deadline on Monday," Jean folded the report and slipped it into his front shirt pocket. It would probably take them the entire weekend to decipher Armin's scribbles and Jean's neater transcription but he didn't mind. In fact, he was anticipating it, itching to go home and begin as soon as possible. 

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver, Jean," Marco sighed with relief before grinning cheekily. "What would Armin do without you?"

Opening his mouth to continue the joke, Jean discovered that even though he would have loved to poke fun at Armin's weaknesses in their partnership, he couldn't. Jean would have felt ingenuine to make a joke because the blonde was quite talented, extremely talented, at his job. The issue was most of Armin's operations were undertaken where he was unable to get credit for them aside from Jean's gratitude. Frankly, Armin didn't deserve it.

"Laugh about it all you want, but in reality, he's the competent one. Armin's intelligence and aptitude are the brilliance behind everything. He's more than brilliant, and I'm just..." Jean trailed off with an unpretentious smile. Though his brown eyes sparkled with pride, no-one but Marco would intuit how true Jean's heartfelt words were. "I'm so lucky to have him. I just act as a representative for both of us. I honestly don't know what I'd do without him."

Marco's thin brow cocked with interest. "That's so lovely of you to say," he complimented.

"Well, I wouldn't say it if I wasn't being honest," Jean grumbled, scowling off to the side. 

"I know, I know. What I mean, and you probably hear it all the time, is that you're so competent with each other that it must be strange to attempt to function without him. You two really seemed so lost without each other this week," Marco observed. 

"You think so?" Face reddening at the observation, though Jean refused to agree verbally, Marco was entirely correct.

The part of himself that maintained a calm, pragmatic, and discerning temperament disappeared and was banned from the meetings with Armin that week. Their alliance with each other operated so well because they bounced off of each other's strengths and supported each other's weaknesses. An example that came to Jean's mind was Armin's ability to transform his impulsive consequential decisions through his level-headed thinking. Times where Jean would have found himself and his team in dire trouble had been instantly saved by Armin - usually done through the gentle, but mordant glance Jean had grown to search for with every decision. Armin implored him to steer his thoughts to a more logical pattern, or more practical, depending on the situation. 

Without Armin's sensible presence warning him before Jean became too capricious, he often made a fool of himself. Other times, Jean's mind rendered itself blank while waiting for Armin's input that never came because his mind often tricked him into believing Armin would be sitting right beside him as he usually was. The quiet demeanour Armin carried kept both of them sane. Armin despised hearing praises from Jean (and he vowed never to stop reminding him of his usefulness), but he remained adamant Armin was a more valuable and larger contributor than himself. 

No matter the amount of confidence or leadership skills Armin lacked, Jean possessed enough to account for both of them. Though, Jean felt the blonde didn't need the confidence to be the capable individual he continued to be, and admired, daily.

"I honestly do," Marco reiterated. "You work well together."

"I mean, when you work together with someone for as long as I have with Armin, you get accustomed to them," Jean justified, and for the first time ever, he found himself anticipating Monday morning's arrival so he could fall back into a regular routine. 

"Hopefully you won't have a difficult time adapting to others' working styles once you leave," Marco mentioned. 

Because his tone was so casual, Jean almost brushed over the important content that Marco was implying. "What? Leave? Where am I going?" Jean's smile faltered to a slight frown, completely perplexed. 

"To...the Military Police? You told me this at the start of the week," Marco explained slowly, appearing more incredulous as he leaned forward on the wooden desk. The sunlight, previously blocked by Marco's head, penetrated his retinas and exaggerated his frown. "You said that your superiors offered you a position, and they were super eager for you to accept it!"

Rubbing his fingers into his forehead as a tension inspired headache took over his brain, Jean recalled the source of his frustration for the entire week. Before all of the chaotic, fatigue-inducing meetings, the commanders summoned him to present Jean a contract for an immediate transfer to the Military Police Brigade. As soon as he caught sight of the paper, Jean felt his entire body shut down. Seeing the document for the first time was like utter magic. He practically heard angels sing in his ears, and the sirens whispering for him to grasp the pen and trace his signature on the dotted line. In front of him, printed in black and white, held the path to reward his past endeavours and satisfy his future dreams. A pen ardently made its way into Jean's hand - already dipped in thick, permanent ink - to sign his name to officially mark his new position in his dream brigade. 

But, despite everybody's expectations, Jean returned the pen, thanked his commanders for their consideration, and respectfully declined. 

Jean's response shocked everybody in the room. As a twenty-one-year-old Survey Corps member, whose skills were far better suited elsewhere and who'd flourish brighter elsewhere; what position was Jean in to decline such an amazing opportunity? Even Jean himself was in disbelief he'd slighted his superiors' judgement for a promotion. Everything inside Jean compelled him to take the time to at least think about the transfer, but he'd already made up his mind. 

"I'm not going to blindly accept a position I was offered," Jean retorted, building a stony front and avoided Marco's questioning eyes. His wandering fingers found the bronze Survey Corps plaque and decided to trace the Wings of Freedom indents to mask his avoidance against thinking about the unicorn patch the Military Police uniform adorned. "I declined it." 

"You...declined it!?" Marco's jaw dropped exaggeratedly. "Why? What the hell made you think that you should reject such an incredible opportunity like this!?"

"I just decided not to take it, alright?" Jean's attempts to remain unbothered were fruitless because his incensed stubbornness seeped through. Truthfully, Jean had no idea why he declined, and that scared him. Or, perhaps, stored in a deeper part of his psyche he couldn't access yet, Jean was aware of his reasons but preferred to live ignorantly. Whatever the rationale turned out to be, it distressed Jean, which forced him to lash out awkwardly. 

Studying Jean's scowl, Marco softened to appeal with concern. "This was your opportunity to be where you've wanted to be since you were a teenager," he reminded. "What could have possibly changed your mind?"

"It's...not important," Jean reddened as he glanced away from Marco and his sympathetic face. Everything made Jean feel uneasy about the whole situation. From the first moment on Monday morning when the contract was presented to the current time as Marco interrogated him, just as perturbed as Jean experienced within himself. 

"I disagree; I think it's fairly important. You're acting strange about this," he tapped his pen on the desk rhythmically like an inquisitive doctor attempting to diagnose a patient. Marco's previous expression changed from sympathetic to almost disappointed with disapproval. "Not to mention you didn't even tell Armin either! You're lucky he wasn't too upset with you. I felt pretty bad, exposing you like that, but why didn't you tell him?"

Jean opened his mouth to retort angrily, but the expression immediately melted as his blood ran cold with heavy realization; he really didn't tell Armin! When he saw Armin that week, Jean's only concern surrounded how their students were treating him and how he was coping with his absence. Cringing internally at the oversight, Jean had never felt like a bigger, unreliable, disloyal, piece of shit friend until now. Armin must have been crushed to begin with, but Jean realised Armin may have been more accepting than he anticipated at Marco's words. 

"What do you mean by 'he wasn't too upset'?" Jean asked, chest suddenly aching. 

"Well, I mean that Armin was shocked, of course, but he was also excited for you! It just sucks he had to hear the news from me instead of you," Marco explained, apologetic. "I'm sorry about that. I just assumed you had already told him-"

"-I just...forgot, I don't know. I would have definitely said something tonight, but I didn't think it was a major issue because I already said 'no'. Don't blame yourself, it's my fault," Jean quickly interrupted; having Marco believe he purposefully kept Armin in the dark was the last thing he needed on his mind. Though Jean adamantly decided his future career path, a part of him remained ambiguous, and Armin would instantly target that small, insignificant part of himself. No doubt lay in Jean's mind that Armin would (successfully) attempt to convince him to accept the position transfer, ignoring any inconvenience, hurt or loneliness he would experience because of Jean's permanent absence.

Hell, Marco only discovered Jean's potential transfer because he happened to be walking past the meeting room, ecstatically pretending not to listen. Marco's face - full of vicarious excitement - was the first thing Jean noticed upon leaving his dumbfounded superiors behind in the meeting room. He was a familiar, comforting presence, so Jean couldn't help but allow the information to messily tumble from his mouth. Though, stupidly enough, Jean neglected to clarify his rejection.

Rashly, Jean decided to go on a pursuit to find Armin. There was no logical or necessary reason why he should attempt to clear the situation up to Armin as soon as possible, but Jean felt it was utterly important. Not to mention Marco's description of his reaction from the news; would Armin really be willing to let Jean go to the Military Police without discussion? Though the misunderstanding arose because of Jean's lack of communication, the fact that Armin seemed uncaring and wholeheartedly supportive...hurt. It fucking hurt. 

And he still didn't know why. 

"I still think you should reconsider," Marco implored gently, watching as Jean stood from the desk. "At least take the weekend to decide. I'm sure they'd still let you transfer if you decide to after a week."

"Don't worry about it. My mind is made up anyway," he asserted. Although, his determination _felt_ shaky enough for Jean to doubt himself. 

"Good luck avoiding Armin's persuading. You know how he'll react," he warned, voice growing a little louder to ensure he reached Jean as he walked to the door. 

"Appreciate the support, but you guys can't get rid of me that easily," Jean laughed as he gripped the door handle in an attempt to present confidently. "I'll see you here next week as a Survey Corps. And the week after that. And the week after _that_ one. Don't give me that sceptical look, Marco. I know what's best for me."

"Fine. I'm sure you know what you're doing," he waved to his friend, but the sceptical side of himself reappeared when Jean was out of eyesight. 

After Jean - in a subtly impaired state with any and all thoughts magnetized to the blonde - left Marco by himself in the office to finish the rest of his duties, a sense of solicitude encompassed him. It was difficult to witness a simple misunderstanding between two friends evolve into something more, something tumultuous. Jean and Armin weren't disclosing something to Marco, nor each other. And funnily enough, Marco doubted they themselves weren't aware of it yet.

_And somehow_ , Marco intuitively sighed to himself; _I feel like the situation's more complex than what I'm seeing._

Jean instantly made his way to Armin's apartment, figuring he'd probably return home to regroup before arriving at Jean's place. His mind ran wild and uncontrolled with conflicting feelings - everything Marco remarked remained glued to his memories and shaking the thoughts away with disregard proved difficult. His ultimate dream laid right in front of him, yet he was unable to take that path. Something about taking the offer just didn't sit right with Jean, but he couldn't figure out _why_ for the life of him. The mental, or psychological, or emotional, block that existed vehemently troubled Jean. Of imagining his new life and duties, Jean endured hollow, stinging emptiness. 

Jean shook his head stubbornly to will away the suffocation; introspection and reality were the last things Jean desired to delegate thought to.

Armin's apartment wasn't one either of them frequented much as a hangout destination, as the Survey Corps base was located closer to the brunette's residence. Despite the long trip whilst in a distracted state of mind, Jean felt the walk took no time at all. 

Sudden hesitation struck Jean like a taser, mainly regarding Armin. How in the world could Jean possibly inform Armin, one of his best friends, the man who understood him better than anybody else, of his rejection without plausible or logical reason? How would he keep Armin from reacting with indignance and launch into manipulation tactics to convince Jean to change his mind for his own sake? Jean traced his fingers over the cool, steel handle. Though the sun shone through every nook and cranny of the village to spotlight Armin's front door, forming an intense penumbra around taller buildings, the metal never felt colder.

Jean's mind concluded his future long ago...but would his relationship with Armin become convoluted due to the rejection of his transfer? 

Should he know by now?

Deciding to approach that bridge if he came to it, Jean drew in a deep breath and delivered three strong knocks against the wooden door. Anxiety rose like fizz and burst like bubbles with every elongated second the door remained locked shut. So, emulating Armin's formidable patience, Jean waited for his blue-eyed friend to answer the door with his usual calm, but pert vigour. And waited. And waited. And waited for a full five lip chewing, dread-inducing minutes. Jean knocked again, three times more. But Armin never came. 

"Hey, Armin?" Jean hoped his voice would reverberate through the door's sleek wood and reach into the apartment. "You home?"

Pressing his ear against the door revealed no sounds. No shuffling or signs of life. Hell, even muted movements showing Armin might have been purposely ignoring him from inside were non-existent. 

"God-fucking-damn it..." Jean groaned with frustration, leaning his forehead against the door.

Desperation materialized from absolutely nowhere. The utmost cognate part of himself demanded Jean to either calmly wait for Armin to return home, retire to his apartment and discover Armin there, or contact him the next day. Anything would be better than launching himself into a blind panic and searching all over the village for Armin. For selfish reasons, Jean told himself he needed to locate Armin as soon as possible. 

Over the next two, long stressful hours, Jean engaged his pursuit. He searched every single place he imagined Armin would inhabit - the library, the book shop, the grocery store, Jean's apartment, Armin's apartment - but his search garnered no results. God, he'd even scoured buildings he'd only accompanied Armin to sparingly and places he'd vocally despised. Every person Jean encountered, whether they were another Survey Corps, a friendly citizen, or a delinquent teenager in a sketchy alley who told him to fuck off as soon as he approached, swore they hadn't seen a moderately short blonde guy who might've appeared anxious, or excited, or contemplative, or some other sort of Armin-esque expression. 

Nobody who even knew Armin had seen him around and helpfully (or cluelessly) supplied Jean with the generous sound advice of waiting for Armin at his home. Frustrated to no end, Jean almost wore himself into a hazy, rage-filled mess. Without Armin's presence, or simply aware of his location as a source of comfort, fulfilling desires Jean never knew existed inside of him, he simply lacked something. 

The sun slowly set during his horrible, dismaying adventure, and thus the lack of drive Jean conjured within himself. Golden, warm sunlight withdrew behind thin, white strips of fluffy clouds as the sky burned a brighter evening auburn. With daylight soon growing scarce, more civilians occupied open space in the village, and his motivational drive was depleted slowly. Jean decided to cut his losses and head home, head hanging low with dejection. Armin was either participating in the world's best game of hide and seek, or he was actively avoiding Jean. Either way, Jean shouldered full responsibility for the inability to keep Armin in his information rotation in the first place. 

Until some merciful God took pity on the brunette as he crossed a small walkway, conveniently situated halfway between Jean and Armin's apartments, and graciously allowed him to find Armin. The simple act of their shoulders brushing ignited something deep and sincere within Jean, such unique pressure and touch only belonging to him. All of Jean's organs froze at once with respited shock and mawkish delight and turned to face him as if his movements were cursed in slow motion. Blank facedly captivated by his inner brilliant faced paced thoughts, Armin appeared...completely and utterly focused and lost concurrently. His fingers wrapped around the thin, rope straps from a plain paper bag dangling from his shoulder, clutching it so, so delicately. He appeared...flat; Jean realised that this was the first time that he couldn't decipher what he was thinking. 

Jean reached for Armin to alert him of his presence, but the prompt was unnecessary as Armin noticed his presence as though it were a sixth sense. For a moment, coincidence persuaded Armin to believe all of his cloudy thoughts sadistically emanated from his ears to solidify right in front of him. Armin's face as he realised Jean was real, contorted with overwhelming sudden happiness, relief and...desolation? Did Jean recognize his emptiness? Or was he projecting onto Armin? Either way, basking in the great repose uncovered upon meeting Armin again inspired to value and reward ending the two-hour march. All the civilians disgruntledly swerved around the two men, thoughtlessly oblivious to their obstructive presence within the walkway. 

"Thank God!" Both Jean and Armin exclaimed simultaneously, adorning pleased smiles. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Where were you!?"

Halting suddenly, each taken back at their corresponding tone and speech, the blonde and the brunette continued to stare at each other for a flustered fraction too long. Foreign politeness remained, on a level that typically existed with strangers, despite the multitude of words and feelings resting on the tips of their tongues. Their faces mirrored naive hesitance towards each other. 

"You go fir-" They both began, again, at the same time, before pausing even longer the second time. 

Jean understood their meeting was required for what needed to be a simple clarification, which would result in humorous laughter then finally commencing their nightly plans. What he couldn't understand, however, was the subtle, slightly edgy tingle of nerves upon seeing the light, sheepish pink dusting Armin's cheeks, or the hollowness in his heart when Armin glanced at the ground awkwardly. This moment felt more saccharine than it needed to be. 

"I'll go," Jean volunteered. As their squad's commander, Jean's mind frame decided to repress sentimentality to initiate was ideal. Armin's head quickly shot up, eyes wide. Jean practically observed his very soul halt still with curiosity behind his irises. "It's about what Marco said, right? But-"

"-I know," Armin quickly interrupted in pleasant acknowledgement. When Jean descried the large grin erupting over Armin's face, contorting with such elation, he felt lost. Wasn't this where Armin angered at his lack of communication? "I'm so excited for you, Jean! I truly am! It's such an amazing opportunity!"

Instead of sadness or hesitance plaguing him, Armin became radiant with pride and joy. It set Jean's confidence back a few steps, attempting to come to terms with his decision. "Y-Yeah, I suppose," he countered with confusion. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight away, but-" 

"-it's okay! I was a little upset, but I won't hold it against you," Armin assured brightly. "I'm aware you were occupied with important issues. It's not a big deal, I promise. Oh, yeah...this is for you!" Holding the paper bag with two hands in front of him, Armin urged him to take it, but he continued to motionlessly stare as an ebbing numbness coursed through his body. 

"What is it?" Jean found himself dumbly asking, stomach sinking with rejection.

"It's not much. I would've gotten you something more suitable with notice. But it doesn't matter, let's celebrate your transfer tonight, okay?" His decision seemed set in stone. Jean, regardless of Armin's insistence, refused to take the bag. 

"Celebrate my transfer?" Jean frowned cynically, stepping forward to assess his face closely. "Armin-"

"-that's why I didn't come straight to your apartment. Not to mention I got fairly side-tracked as well. I'm really, really happy for you, Jean," he murmured wistfully. Jean's brown eyes glanced between Armin's own blue eyes, attempting to grasp some other emotion besides prideful joy to appeal to, but he discovered nothing. Armin's cheerful face remained smoothly plastered on his features. 

"Armin-" The taller man attempted to get his attention once again, but Armin truly wasn't listening to him. 

"Anyway," Armin continued flippantly. "I was waiting for a while after I bought this. I assumed I'd probably missed you before you left...or were preoccupied with something else, and expected to see you later. I, um, didn't expect you would also be attempting to find me."

"Don't worry about it, honestly-" Jean began to insist.

"-I'm very sorry for forcing you to search for me. How burdensome..." Armin's smile insecurely faltered, realising he began to crack. While Jean grew frustrated by the constant interruptions, nothing halted sympathy and helplessness Jean emulated for him; Armin deserved anything but such an unconfident face. Discarding his fickle, vulnerable breakthrough exhausted the already crestfallen Armin, though strained Jean with internal turmoiled whiplash with as he turned to walk in the direction of Jean's apartment. "Come on! You probably prefer to go back to your place, right? We can hang out like we originally planned, and you need to tell me everything-"

"-Armin, stop for a moment. Keep your mouth shut for one second and just listen to me," Jean demanded. The best way for him to finally listen and correct Armin's assumptions was to become as blunt as possible, saving himself from politely listening to Armin's incessant, but thoughtful, rambling. "I didn't accept the transfer."

Stumbling slightly, Armin paused and swayed with horror - icy horror that infiltrated his body surrounding his bones. After all the internal chaos he suffered through, all the introspection of Jean he unwillingly experienced, Armin became almost _insulted_ that Jean's revelation slipped carelessly from his lips. Jean continued to observe, brow furrowed with agitation and concern, but not requiring further prompts. He would give Armin time, and everything would be alright. And he assumed correctly - a raw, real look of relief consumed Armin's features as he glanced over his shoulders, and Jean latched onto the look with every impulse and desire that flourished through his body. 

"Eh? You didn't?" Armin's tone almost sounded a begging, airy request for clarification. 

Shaking his head in two simple motions, Jean broke into a composed grin. God, his throat appeared to swell shut just _looking_ at Armin. Armin's eyes, his gorgeous, vibrant, expressive cyan eyes (almost, Jean continually remarked to himself, wetly rippling like the ocean he adored so much), attempted to remain focused on Jean to keep up with his supportive charade all the while affecting Jean in ways he was never conscious to before now. It was like the relief of returning home; it was something familiar, something dreamy, something Jean needed every single day. By now, they'd dreamily lost notice of everything around them.

"I didn't," he answered, voice low with sobriety. "Marco was mistaken and told you the wrong thing, but that was my fault. He only partially overheard parts of the meeting and I neglected to inform him I didn't take the position."

"Ah...that makes sense," Armin mumbled, greedily absorbing whatever information Jean bestowed to him. 

"And I'm so, so fucking sorry for not telling you earlier. You deserved to know as soon as I was told because my transfer affects your life, too. But I'm staying here, and I'm not going anywhere," Jean finished.

"Okay..." Armin, stunned and stiff, turned to face Jean properly. The paper bag between his fingers threatened to drop onto the ground, almost unable to metaphorically hold himself together. Because of shock? Because of anger? Because of disbelief? Whatever emotion he felt rendered Armin practically immobile. 

"Are you okay?" Jean cautiously stepped forward, desperately aching to decipher what was on his mind. 

The facade broke with a single, fat tear rolling down Armin's flushed cheek. He was mortified he'd began to cry, he was ecstatic that he'd found Jean before the day ended, but most of all, Armin was upset and _disgusted_ at how happy he'd mindlessly become hearing Jean's news. To Jean, this was all he needed to feel secure and uncover and discover himself. Jean finally understood that Armin, no matter how generous and how sacrificial he appeared, he secretly held his desires. Jean no longer felt rejected or dejected because he saw Armin couldn't bear to see him leave. 

"I'm...I'm selfish, but I'm glad you're not going," Armin shakily admitted, laughing despite the sobbing that threatened to release itself from his chest and assault his diaphragm over and over. The tear messily smeared over his cheek and trembling fingertips in vain against bearing Jean's witness to his loss of composure. Affected by the subtle widening of Jean's coffee brown eyes, carelessness washed over him with permission for vulnerability, so Armin grasped his chance with a surplus exclamation. "I'm so, so glad." 

It was as if their bodies were on autopilot; they immediately moved towards each other and meshed together in a warm, compressed hug. Jean had never been more acutely aware of Armin's arms locked tightly around his neck, body pressed against his own, or the soft, silky blonde strands tickling his nose and cheek. Swallowing thickly, Jean recalled how overwhelmed he became with the heavy, emotional weight that tied itself to him, though with each lucid second that ticked on, the guilt he experienced sunk into him even harder. 

Armin, himself, seemed to willingly sink into him with a shuddering sigh that ghosted over his skin, fingertips weaving through Jean's tough Survey Corps jacket as if to desperately apologise for his uncharacteristic outburst. It slowly became easier over time to ignore the civilian's confused and inconvenienced glances towards the two Survey Corps' overly affectionate public display. Content at the very least, Jean allowed his eyes to slowly slide shut and begin to rub Armin's back with deliberate ease and soothing succour. One thing was for certain; the most positive outcome of the misunderstanding was securing that Jean's final decision was the correct one to make. 

A rude, though deserved, nudge from a passing villager forced them to realise they impeded the walkway. Sounds of footsteps on the crunchy gravel and bricks and cacophonous chatter of groups around them filled the once comfortable silence with the ear-splitting shock of vibrant noise. Tension continued to exist between them, aphonically acknowledging the fact to themselves, aware further discussion was required to clear the air between them. So they released each other with embarrassed smiles. 

"Uhm...want to go back to my place now?" Jean offered, motioning back to the direction of his apartment. Armin replied with a simple, maudlin nod.

* * *

The walk back was entirely silent. Conversation between them trickled and eventually began to flow properly upon arriving at Jean's apartment. Like routine, the pale blue, uncomfortable couch - littered with questionable stains from its past -past remained neglected as Jean and Armin instead opted to sit on the scratchy, brown rug laid underneath the short coffee table. Numerous work-related collaborations, past discussions for future missions and leisurely hours were shared between them and the coffee table. Now, as Armin listened to Jean clinking cups and plates in the kitchen, the inevitable heavy, heartfelt debriefing hung over his head. 

Worst of all, Armin possessed neither the words nor the courage to initiate. If Armin had managed to wrangle his emotions in check earlier, this situation wouldn't have been necessary. For the first time, papers, maps, or casual snacks didn't inhabit their usual spots on the table. Instead, a small ceramic platter lay six mini plain sponge cakes, topped with cream and fresh strawberries (Jean's favourite dessert from a small local bakery) as Armin's gift to the brunette was carefully positioned laterally to Armin. 

"Do you want one now?" Jean offered as he straightened the platter.

"I'm fine for now, thank you," he declined softly. "You're welcome to have one." Earlier, embarrassment and self-consciousness infected Armin upon watching Jean remove the contents from the paper bag gift. He reacted enthusiastically, of course. Armin felt even _more_ self-conscious because he was sure Jean would be happy with anything he received from Armin. As far as Jean was concerned, bad cake did not exist in their world and thanked Armin. 

"I'm fine, too," Jean decided. As if expecting Armin to continue their civil conversation, he lingered before retreating to the kitchen. The cakes would probably remain untouched and uneaten for a while because neither of them currently possessed an appetite. 

Jean returned after a few seconds, holding a mug in each hand. He dreaded returning to the awkward atmosphere. His usual confidence somewhat faltered. When matters worsened to a point that Jean could not solve them by himself, he relied on Armin's conversational ability to remedy the situation. Today, however, Jean believed Armin was too despondently gloomy to think clearly. The words Armin said to him outside, so raw yet so strained from the disappointment of voicing his feelings, replayed in Jean's mind. 

"I, um, would've made some myself, but I didn't have time to," he admitted, bittersweet memories returning as Jean sat beside him on the ground. They were both cross-legged like children. Armin accepted the ice water Jean offered to him, wrapping his hands around the mug. 

"It's okay. These are still great," Jean assured, perking up as an idea that might remedy the situation occurred to him. "Hey, we should make some together another day. That'll be fun, right?"

"Mm, right," Armin agreed half-heartedly. Though he attempted to hide it, Armin experienced chagrin and hesitance over his emotional outburst. Armin didn't aim to be manipulative or influence Jean's decision, but Jean's tenderness at that moment, coupled with the overwhelming relief he supplied, made him feel safe enough to explain how he was feeling. Realising that Jean may have reacted negatively didn't arise until he had calmed down, thus beginning the internal punishment. And Jean found it difficult to observe. 

"I also ran into Marco at the base before I saw you. He was still finishing the report," Jean informed in an attempt to steer the conversation. He reached into his pocket to produce Armin's weekly report. "He can't understand your writing, so I offered to rewrite the report with you. I hope that's okay."

Armin bit his lip, cradling his mug closer to himself. "I couldn't ask you to do that..." He refused. "I'll do it myself when I go home."

"You're not forcing me or anything; I want to help! Your handwriting's kind of a lost cause, too," Jean mustered a heart-warming grin, filled with humour, to cheer him up, but Armin didn't, or couldn't, return his smile. "Consider it another apology for leaving you alone this week, okay?"

"You don't need to apologise for it, but...if you're fine with it, then we can rewrite it together," Armin reluctantly agreed with nothing more to say.

Unlucky for Armin, Jean didn't have anything to say either. He stifled a frustrated sigh, not wanting Armin to feel worse than he already felt. The mood between them was rendered terse, soured by their insecurities and thoughts. Armin still experienced internal conflict, but he was unable to envision his plans for questioning Jean and his reasons for rejecting the Military Police position. There was no logical sense behind Jean's non-acceptance, leading Armin to become frustrated not only in himself for readily believing the probable path leading to Jean's promotion, but in Jean, additionally. 

"Armin," Jean said as he interrupted Armin's rapid train of though, bearing his piercing, sincere eyes into Armin. His light-hearted tone was dropped, indicating that he would be as candid as possible. "You're not selfish for how you feel."

Stunned, Armin couldn't conjure a proper response, particularly because of their conflicting opinions. Jean deserved unconditional support. His talents would wither and waste among the meagre Survey Corps...and with Armin himself. Jean would eventually flourish like a magnificent but undernourished plant from serving his dream brigade. No doubts existed in Armin's mind that the green and white unicorn would suit Jean far better than the blue and white wings of freedom. A sudden stab of irony penetrated Armin's caustic, gloomy side; though Jean had been granted freedom, he continued to confine himself within the Survey Corps. 

And as much as Armin would have offered his undying support for Jean, if he embraced his new position, the only thing Armin would dwell on was resentment. Not towards Jean, but for circumstances surrounding the transfer. About why he wasn't informed earlier. About why he wasn't _allowed_ to know from the beginning. His reasons surrounded himself - that, in Armin's opinion, was the textbook definition of selfishness. 

"I...disagree," Armin sighed a long drawn out sigh. His voice soft and strained, unable to return Jean's intense stare. Instead, he gazed over to the corner of the room miserably. "Because I should've felt proud of you the _moment_ Marco told me, but I was upset and I couldn't figure out why. I _still_ don't know why."

"How do you feel now?" Jean urged, believing transparency of Armin's emotional state was a necessity to him. However, Armin's head remained tilted down towards his lap, leaving Jean to study his self-conscious profile view. Jean's eyes never left his pink lips as he patiently waited for him to speak knowing he would hang onto every single word he uttered. 

"I'm okay now that I'm aware you're not leaving. Still, I shouldn't have mentioned how happy I was to learn that. _That_ is why I'm selfish," he justified somewhat harshly, frowning into the water at his own rippling reflection as though he were scolding himself.

"From my perspective, there's nothing selfish about expressing relief because I assume that _you_ assumed the commander of your cohort was going to abandon everything without notice. You were relieved when you learned that I wasn't going to do that, which is totally fine," Jean reasoned pragmatically. Except he couldn't have been more wrong. "Even if I _did_ accept the transfer, I would still expect you to voice your opinions and concerns, nor would I leave without discussing everything with you first. Even though it wasn't presented that way, if I were seriously contemplating taking that transfer, it would be a team decision." 

Stubborn as usual, Jean continued to deny Armin's faults. A small part of Armin desperately clung to his approval and prayed his friend's perception of him would never change. It made him _so_ frivolously happy. Armin didn't want to believe that Jean was concealing his true reasons but he intuited a deeper reason for rejecting the position. Unfortunately, as much as Armin would have loved to blindly accept anything Jean told him, his heart and conscience wouldn't rest until he knew _everything_ that occurred in Jean's mind that allowed him to make such a decision. 

"I appreciate you saying that. Truly; it means a lot. But..." Armin sighed with a slow shake of his head. His fingertip slowly traced around the rim of his cup, trying to decipher what was appropriate to say, and what wasn't. 

Jean found himself chuckling with ironic, awkward contritment, anxiously rubbing his temple. "I made _such_ a mess, huh? I really should've been straight with Marco from the beginning and I should've told you as soon as I found out," he muttered. 

A small, sad smile contorted on Armin's lips, which overjoyed Jean in a way he'd never imagined Armin's smile would. He gazed up at Jean for the first time during their discussion. "In hindsight, that would have been preferable," Armin commented, tone lacklustre. "But we wouldn't have had the time to properly discuss this until the week was over. I probably would have still been anxious and upset over assuming you would take the position, like Marco insisted. The daily meetings throughout the week didn't help either."

"You don't need to worry about the rest of the week. Our superiors presented the contract first thing on Monday morning. If I told you like I should have, you would know that I turned it down. I was asked to reconsider a few times, but I obviously reiterated that I wouldn't be transferring," Jean openly explained, placing his mug on the coffee table to gesture with his hands. Armin chose to watch his expression through his explanation. When occasions turned ardent, and Jean became impassioned, his body language typically followed. Judging by his body language, Jean was frustrated...but reserved. 

"So...the rest of the meetings were regarding work?" Armin clarified. 

"Yes, they were - they were completely unrelated to my offered transfer. The reason they told you that you couldn't attend because they were unable to find a substitute who was willing to supervise our cohort for the week," Jean explained with a slight cognizant smirk. "Marco was first on the list, of course, but since he was covering for me, they decided only I would be needed. I have the meeting notes and there's another debriefing on Monday that you're coming to, by the way."

Armin was glad the mysteries of the week were being solved one by one. _One_ continued to nag at his mind, leading Armin to assume this would be difficult to chase answers for. "You know...you still haven't explained _why_ you declined a position in the Military Police. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but are you avoiding telling me why?" He boldly questioned. 

This is what Jean had been initially afraid of. Armin, intelligent, astute Armin, could not be fooled or outsmarted. He had known this man for almost ten years. He grew more intelligent and observant every day. He'd patiently wait, like a cheetah hunting for its juicy prey, for any sliver of information he could latch his claws into. If all his years of friendship with Armin taught Jean a single skill it was that learning to excel at keeping his thoughts inhibited, even if it rarely worked. 

"I'm not avoiding it! There's just a multitude of reasons; I'm happy with my current position in the Survey Corps. I enjoy my work as a commander. It would take me _years_ to reach a similar level with the Military Police. Call me lazy, but I don't want to go through that. Not to mention I like the people I work with, and I couldn't just give up our students in the middle of the year!" Jean chose his divulged words _very_ carefully. He caught himself before he almost cited his desire to keep Armin's stress down knowing the blonde would focus on that point with displeasure. 

"I understand where you're coming from," he agreed with a look of dazed surprise. Armin _definitely_ wasn't expecting a well thought-out list. 

"Great," Jean expressed with a resolute smile. 

"It's just...there's _something_ you're not telling me," Armin stood firm as he motioned to Jean in front of him, his entire body, as if the answer laid somewhere in his flesh. "You have to understand that your decision makes _no_ sense!"

"Of course I understand, but I _am_ telling you everything that impacted by decision," Jean argued back. "I'm not heartless enough to accept such a life-altering decision without discussing it you. I honestly can't believe you expected me to do so without telling you, and that you find it strange that I didn't accept without telling you while being upset about it." 

Armin's stomach dropped anxiously; the last thing he wanted to do was insult Jean's character. "I'm not saying it's strange you didn't take the position without telling me; I'm saying it's strange you didn't take the position _at all_. It's not strange to assume that you would automatically sign the contract and transfer the moment you could purely because the Military Police was something you talked about for _years_ , Jean! I accept that you would talk to me about it, but refusing the position is not right even for you," he justified. 

"The Military Police isn't a priority to me anymore like it was years ago," Jean brushed off the thought like a silly teenaged dream. "If I didn't make it clear before, I will now; your needs and your feelings matter to me. Immensely. I understand the events surrounding this whole mess is strange, but I _promise_ that I would _never_ purposefully leave you in the dark. I'm honest when I say you're not selfish for being happy I'm not transferring. So, please, never ever think you're selfish because I promise you, Ar, selfish will never define you."

Bottom lip quivering painfully, Armin stared back down to his water once more. What, oh God, _what_ possessed Jean to always be so nice and comforting towards him? Ultimately, nothing mattered anymore because Jean would remain with him. Yet, guilt continued to simmer within him. Their emotional discussion stretched into early evening, where dark blue accompanied pink and orange to create a soothing maroon. Armin found himself anything _but_ soothed. Everything inside of him felt so heavy and his stomach so tingly. 

"Your career is yours. I shouldn't be a variable to influence you." Armin declared though his words were as torturous as self-flaggelating whips striking his flesh all over his back. He kept repeating the same incriminating words in his head; _whatever is best for Jean should be the best decision for him_. "If you'd like to transfer to the Military Police, I'd get over it."

"I already rejected the offer, so stop focusing on that," Jean demanded, evidently beginning to become annoyed.

"You haven't explicitly stated what you want. Do you _want_ to transfer?" Armin proposed his own question, one laced with suspicion and questioning. He was surprised to see Jean's resolve crumble slightly. The overwhelming desire to pick Jean's brain had never struck him so deep within his core until now. While secure with the slightly creepy analytical side of his personality, Armin cowered with fear over the answer he would discover.

"I...prefer to stay in the Survey Corps. The Survey Corps is familiar and comfortable. Who knows, Armin, I might hate being in the Military Police! I'm content, so I don't see any reason to change whatsoever," Jean flippantly disregarded. 

By Armin's deadpan stare, he didn't persuade him in the slightest. By Jean's telling tone and pitch, Armin rapidly pieced him together as expertly as a puzzle. "...you're lying, aren't you," Armin murmured, stunned. 

"I'm _not_ lying," he protested. 

"I know you are!" Armin moved closer to the brunette, anxious to connect with him. His persuasive blue eyes never failed him in the past. Luckily for him, Jean's tenacity was absolutely weak to light prodding. "I want to know what's on your mind so we can discuss this!"

"It's...not important," Jean found him self muttering once more. 

"You probably said the same thing to Marco when he asked you," Armin mentioned, realising he'd delved further into Jean's mind than he intended upon noticing his guilty look of surprise. "Just tell me truth."

"Okay! Fine!" Throwing his hands up, Jean accepted defeat. And like the stubborn asshole he vehemently and proudly accepted he was, none of his true feelings held back. If Armin desired to know everything, then he'd receive everything. His reasons, buried within himself, combusted like a horrifying firework display in his consciousness but Jean embraced them for what they were worth. Looking back in hindsight, Jean could have stopped himself, or adorned a more tender tone (after all, Jean never claimed to punish Armin or his need for the truth), but a week's worth of vexation exploded in front of his insistent friend. "Joining the Military Police would be the greatest thing that could ever happen to me, but staying with my team, with you, brings me more happiness than I could ever imagine!" 

"You...cannot be serious," Armin gaped, paling considerably. The shock he experienced hit him with immense extremity that he felt unstable, digging his fingers into the rug as some semblance of grounding.

"I'm _one hundred per cent_ serious. I'm happiest when I'm with you. Any other opportunity that would advance my military career doesn't matter to me if you're not involved," Jean stated. The courage that instilled him vanished, now unable to look at the mortification Armin's expression would practically assault him with. No matter the anxiety that turned Jean's stomach into knots, or Armin's soft insistence, any decision that merely involved Armin against anything else the world threw at him would render the blonde victorious every time. Truthfully, a single blonde hair growing from Armin's skull was worth more to Jean than his own life. 

Armin's eyes widened, utterly alarmed. "Jean...no, you can't think like that," he reproached imploringly, tone meek. "You need to, and should, think independently and choose the best outcome for yourself!"

"This isn't up for debate; having you with me is best for me," Jean countered stubbornly. The selflessness Armin demonstrated was becoming of him, but no matter how well defined his traits appeared and defined, Jean's resentment slowly bubbled. "What? Have you suddenly decided to change your mind?"

"No, of course not!" Armin's disagreement, no matter how adamant, had never reached Jean less. "From my point of view, you're sacrificing your dream for me after I expressed hesitance. I'd feel absolutely _awful_ knowing that my reaction was the reason you decided to sacrifice your dreams. I don't want you resenting me."

"I'm not going to regret this, I know I won't. And I won't resent you for anything, either," Jean clarified. Armin would hate if he verbalised his thoughts, but whatever path would ensure he remained with his blonde friend, Jean would take it in a heartbeat. 

"What about your advancing in your career? Isn't that important?" Armin reasoned. 

"I wasn't lying when I said I was satisfied with my rank in the Survey Corps. You, however, are a person, and my friend - I'm not going to pretend you don't have emotions, or that you won't be inconvenienced by this," he maintained, running his fingers over the slight ridges of the coffee table. 

Mind scanning quickly to argue with a rebuttal, he thought back to their superiors commanding Armin remain as a singular teacher for their cohort that week. "...our superiors knew this would happen, didn't they?" Armin mentioned, voice bitter with realization. "There's a reason everything was confidential and barred me from the meetings even though I hear confidential topics all the time with you. I know what you told me, but I think they knew I'd influence your decision. They wanted you to go with a clear mind without me by your side."

"Bullshit, Armin! You're looking for reasons to not accept what I'm telling you! You, personally, didn't manipulate anything! This shouldn't have been offered the first place without an additional contract for you because everybody knows we've always worked together, and that's not going to change!" Jean all but raised his voice in an attempt to get his point across. "The only way I'm going is if you're coming with me."

"I didn't qualify, and I still don't qualify," Armin reminded tersely.

"Then, I guess I'm not transferring," Jean retorted with finality. 

"I'm..." Armin ducked his head insecurely as his insecurities and fears consumed him and unveiled, like water through an overflowing, pent up, but cracked dam. "I'm just going to weigh you down. Either way, that's what will happen. I'm not going to let this sit on both of our consciousnesses."

"This isn't about that!" Jean practically yelled, so blind with frustration he barely noticed Armin's sudden flinch away from him. "God, Armin, my decision to stay isn't based around your usefulness to me! You're not stupid; why are you suddenly now becoming so self-depreciative?" 

"It's the right thing to do for yourself, Jean," Armin mumbled softly, feeling as though Jean struck him painfully through the heart; approaching a situation under the farce of apathy attempted to lessen the hurt. Mindless, selfless words played on repeat in his brain. Armin had never felt his throat become so tense and sore from keeping himself from crying, nor had he felt the aching loneliness gape inside of him just _imagining_ dealing with work, friends, and life in general without Jean as support. Armin didn't think he was codependent, but rather, he was worried something _would_ happen without the brunette to encourage him, to reassure him. 

Jean has been there through his lowest points, and Armin wasn't sure if he could cope if he wasn't there. 

_After their departure, Eren and Mikasa left a tense, undetermined atmosphere surrounding the scouts. It was no secret that the feeling seemed to be radiating from Armin's lonely, sullen form occupying a shadowy corner of the courtyard. The dorms were off-limits unless a scout was sick or injured, so Armin was sent outside. People were uncomfortable looking at him, but also sympathetic because of the argument everybody witnessed the day before._

_Jean was the one to volunteer himself to talk to Armin after pitifully watching him for most of the morning. Everybody else either felt like they weren't close enough to Armin to pull him out of his misery, or didn't desire the strain of emotions from Armin._

_"With a deep, inaudible breath, Jean sat down next to the sullen, lonely blonde. "So…they finally left, huh?" Jean remarked, gazing off into the distance as Armin stared at the ground._

_"Yeah," Armin merely sighed, hugging his bent legs to his chest tighter as the only source of comfort he allowed. It was late morning, so the rest of the scouts were about enjoying the sunlight. The warmth the sun provided seemed almost cruelly ironic to Armin. So, residing in the cool shade complementing his numb, melancholic state kept Armin from becoming overly emotional._

_Jean sensed everything his friend felt and chose his words cautiously. "I'm glad you didn't go with them," he expressed truthfully, smiling down at Armin._

_Crumpling a little more, Armin held himself tighter, digging his chin into his knees. He looked so, so small as his expression crumpled and drooped with sadness. "The offer wasn't extended to me," Armin corrected Jean quietly._

_Silence encompassed the two boys once more_ _; the taller increasingly became tenser to avoid calamity while the smaller continued to wallow, feeling completely alone._

_"Ah...I'm sorry," Jean apologised gently in another attempt to get Armin to be transparent with his feelings. "I'm still glad. I'd be so mad if you left with them - especially after what happened yesterday."_

_"...you would?" Armin looked at Jean for the first time that day with dubious intent. It was like his faith in others, particularly his friends, had been roughly snatched and stolen with Eren and Mikasa._

_"I would. You're a pushover sometimes, but seeing you get fiery and stand up for yourself against them impressed me. I would've been mad if you decided to take back what you said just to make them happy," Jean explained, returning Armin's incredulous stare with a smile._ _Was somebody demonstrating their care for Armin so daunting and surprising to him? Connecting through visual means never seemed so powerful or necessary until now. "In my opinion, friends don't treat friends like how they treated you. If they wanted you to prove your loyalty to them and asked you to go, you wouldn't have gone with them, right?"_

_Jean was almost afraid to hear his answer, but Armin didn't disappoint him._ _"No," Armin mumbled softly. "I wouldn't have left with them. I wouldn't leave you, or my other friends, who have actually shown they care about me. No matter how much Eren and Mikasa mean to me as childhood friends."_

_"Good, because if they're going to be shitty to you, they don't deserve you," Jean emphasised with utmost importance and tenderness, pleased when he managed to crack Armin's brooding to uncover a hidden smile. And, Jean decided to himself, Eren and Mikasa would regret ending their friendship over intangible conspiracy theories._

_"Thank you..." he sighed softly._

_Finding his own determined, complacent grin widening, Jean stood from the ground with a light stretch. He didn't immediately leave like Armin sadly assumed he would, but instead found a hand extended towards him. Fingers beckoned towards the dumbfounded blonde, but it was obvious grand gestures weren't getting through to him._ _"Come on, you're coming with me," Jean coaxed enthusiastically._

_"Huh?" Armin's slack-jawed expression amused - and depressed - Jean. "Where are we going?"_

_"I was going to play cards with Marco before I cam over here. We'd appreciate another player, so why don't you come? I can teach you the rules. You're smart; you'll pick up fast,"_ _he flexed his palm again, stretching his fingertips as far as they could go. "Please?_

_Hesitantly, Armin limply gripped Jean's hand but was forced to tighten his hold once Jean easily pulled him into a standing position. "Are you sure you and Marco don't mind?" His insecure question didn't shock the brunette at this point, because Armin was still fragile and unsure._

_"We don't mind! Marco has asked me to ask you so many times, so he'll be happy. We'd love you to join us," Jean insisted truthfully, leading him back towards the main building. "Besides, you also deserve to be around good friends. I'm not gonna leave you alone."_

Armin rubbed his forehead to expel the bittersweet memory from his mind, missing Jean's expression of exasperation.

"Are you forgetting that we're a team? I can't _just_ consider myself and my well-being when I'm confronted with such a large decision," Jean shot back in response. Blood rushing and heart pounding, Jean's pragmatic side slowly began to fail him as he felt the hot dread build up inside of him. "I'll remind you; we're fucking close, close friends and lead the same cohort of trainee scouts. What I know and what I'm familiar with is _way_ more valuable than some dream." 

"It's not 'some dream'! It's _your_ dream! The whole reason you joined the Survey Corps in the first place," Armin reminded. 

"Who cares? I'm not aiming to transfer because I love where my life is at the moment. I love my leadership position, and our intelligent, bratty cohort, and working with you every day. I couldn't put up with anybody _but_ you," Jean clarified roughly, scowl immovable at Armin's flustered expression. 

"That's...so inflexible," he sighed, sliding a hand onto his cheek to vulnerably hide his face. 

"That's okay! Because I don't think I could comfortably work with anybody else, and neither could you," he continued. "You've seen how many assholes are in the Military Police, and you've seen how stupid our superiors can be. I wouldn't be able to handle it if you weren't there. We wouldn't work successfully with anybody else if we weren't operating as a team."

"That's not-" Armin began to correct him only to be cut off by Jean's passionate rant. 

"Let me finish, goddamnit!" His insistence had an air of desperation which _shocked_ Armin. He wasn't expecting Jean's mood to fluctuate this much. "Another reason I didn't accept the position had nothing to do with work. I'd never be able to see you. You realise that, right? Our schedules wouldn't line up. I might not have weekends off. I might need to relocate if they want me in a different village or a different sector of the walls. I'd very, _very_ rarely get to see you or our friends - and that time is already scarce enough. I would _never_ get to see you. At this point, I'm not _ready_ to not see you everyday!"

Armin was almost afraid to open his mouth once more in case Jean silence him. "Jean..." Armin attempted to stop his rambling. "What are you trying to say?"

"That...shit," Jean muttered in a soft, almost terrified voice. "That I can't give you up. That I can't abandon you. That I have to see you every single day. That...I love _everything_ about you." 

Dreadfully intuiting what Jean was about to say, Armin's features opened with horror as his heart stopped. "Jean, do _not_ -" He attempted to halt him but Jean's voice was too powerful over his own. 

"-I can't transfer because I'm _in love_ with you!" Jean finally confessed. He confessed what he'd only just discovered hours before. He confessed the mental block that trapped him for so, so long and confined him to overthink every single decision and interaction he'd ever had with Armin. 

_"Jean Kirstein!"_ His name was said with such anger that it shook Jean to his very core. 

No amount of tact approaching the forbidden subject would lessen the cold, hard stare Armin expressed. God, Jean wished his realisation remained buried within his unconscious because _nothing_ could've prepared him for Armin's immediate displeasure. In hindsight, admitting that he loved Armin wasn't the smartest decision to gain the stubborn blonde's acceptance because Jean's simple confession threatened to ruin and destroy everything they had built together over the past six years. 

"Ar-" Jean didn't even attempt to fight Armin when he cut him off. 

"You _cannot_ say that. _Especially_ after informing me that I inspired your final decision," Armin emphatically refuted. The decision to remain emotionally detached from the situation was evident through his low, calm words. But, as his hands curled into tight, sweaty fists to mask their trembling, Armin swore his palpitating heart would eventually crack his rib cage. Fooling himself proved to be _a lot_ more difficult than he assumed. 

"Why? You wanted to know the truth, so I gave it to you. I don't think it's a bad thing to say," Jean argued, weakly defending himself. While he tried to retain a semblance of nonchalance or ease, Armin's aggravation rose to a level Jean wasn't sure he could handle. 

"A relationship between two men isn't...sustainable in this environment, in this field of work, and especially not in this society," Armin countered. The mask he adorned was so great that Jean couldn't detect his exact emotion or opinion on the matter. "If any of the Survey Corps, whether they're our coworkers or superiors, caught wind of your feelings, you would be severely punished or suspended at the least. Ostracised at the worst!"

"They're not here right now, and I won't tell them because my personal life is none of their business! I know you won't say anything because you're decent, so...problem solved," Jean replied, scornful. 

"This affects us both. I'm concerned about the consequences and the penalties for _both_ of us. We're together all the damn time - there's no way that people wouldn't become suspicious of me once your feelings become public knowledge," Armin insisted. "Think about our students, too! How do you think _they_ will feel when they hear such things about their commander..."

"They're not involved, so why should I think about their opinions," he expressed, searching his eyes that _refused_ to look at him properly. Noticing Armin's demeanour deflate, Jean softened despite how painfully his skin prickled with rejection like minuscule needles piercing him over, and over. Jean couldn't stop asking questions - he couldn't let this go yet. "Why are you acting as though people will find out?"

"Because they eventually will. I don't know how long you've felt like this, but believe me, now that it's out, you'll have a hard time pretending to not feel the way you do. I know what you're like," Armin predicted quietly. sounded harsh and convincing, but meek. "You're like an open book which is why this, between us, won't work."

Jean impulsive confession horrified Armin. Flushed, flustered and furious, every unconcerned word coming from Jean's mouth acted as a shovel to dig themselves deeper into the hole Jean created. Exactly how long was Jean in love with him? Since they were teenagers? After graduation? Hell, perhaps even a month ago? It seemed impossible to analyse his interactions with Jean to decipher when his feelings must have altered. Now, Armin felt feverish, though Jean's confession infected him with an illness, causing his flushed complexion, shivering limbs and frazzled, dissonant mind. However, one symptom Armin couldn't place was the piercing, aching ripping sensation in his heart. 

"Then, I'll work extra hard to hide them. If you don't feel the same, that's okay. I swear that nobody will find out if that's what you want," Jean promised sincerely. He leaned clo "In the end, who gives a shit about how everybody else will react? I don't, and you shouldn't either!"

"You should because this affects our lives. It'll be unavoidable when somebody discovers," Armin advised. Their roles constantly interchanged, resisting and convincing each other of their respective stances. Lacking unanimous decisions proceeded to sour Jean's desperation with frustration and mesh Armin's refusal with his inner regret. Armin's heart momentarily paused; would he regret this opportunity with Jean, or experience vicarious regret for Jean if he dismissed the Military Police?

"You don't _know_ that someone will discover," Jean implored attempting to be as rational as possible

"Well, you don't either!" Armin retorted, sullenly rubbing his temples. His sudden silence scared Jean slightly before his voice, so serious, graced his ears once more. "Do you realise the ordeal we'll be forced to deal with in public will be harsh for the rest of our lives if we decide to take this path? Public opinion of the Survey Corps is already at an all-time low. What, Jean, do you think would happen if the civilians catch wind of two men, two male superiors who teach children and lead missions, in a relationship?"

"We're fucking smart, sneaky bastards, we've hidden so much worse than a relationship, especially during our training days," he suggested with a forlorn, irresistable grin. After all, Armin had never been able to resist his daring nature and break the rules a little. Armin appeared steadfast today, and didn't allow himself to return Jean's infectious smile. "It wouldn't be the first time we've lied to our superiors."

"There'll be consequences and I don't want you to suffer them because I don't think you deserve it," Armin dismissed. Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and balling his hands into fists on his lap, Armin gazed up at Jean with a resolute expression. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept your feelings."

Though Armin's words were as mellow as water extinguishing him, Jean felt the fire blaze in him even _more_. "Armin, _I_ can't accept your response when you're talking about a lot of hypothetical situations. I couldn't care less about what _could_ happen so they won't persuade me in the slightest! As long as I have you by my side, I feel like I can take on anything." Jean concluded, embittered beyond belief. He had been lectured by Armin for that entire evening about his honest, yet Armin wasn't paying the same respect? When Armin had the weight of the world and his morals on his narrow, hunched shoulders, it was impossible to persuade him. 

"I care; it matters to me," Armin replied, looking so, so exhausted by the unfolding events. The unfamiliar, sickening warmth in his chest kept him conscious. 

"It shouldn't. You're blocking yourself off from what you want when you focus on unnecessary shit like that," the taller brunette advised. One thing that Armin avoided stood out to him, purely because Jean had previously done the same, so Jean hesitantly continued. "And...I can see that you're not being truthful to me. You haven't even told me how you feel about me, or what you want. What _do_ you want?"

The strong, heated blush on Armin's cheeks left him defenceless. Just by his mortified expression alone, unable to look at his face anymore, communicated to Jean everything he needed to know. Any truthful, loving words Armin lovingly generated dissolved like stomach acid, burning his throat raw. Disbelief in himself and Jean's confession jaded his judgement and cracked his heart in two, because nothing had filled Armin with more happiness and bliss and utter longing for proper companionship, Jean's companionship, from the moment Jean told him he loved him. 

And that was reciprocating to Jean that he loved him back. But he couldn't. 

"I want...to avoid the consequences that come with these feelings. If we become a c-couple..." Armin's voice quivered with an even harsher flush picturing the possibilities. He composed himself before continuing. "If we become a couple, we would inevitably slip up and expose ourselves. I _don't_ want that. So...the best thing to do - and this is for _both_ of us - is to pretend this conversation never happened and for you to accept your transfer to the Military Police. Because you can't come back from this."

Jean scowled upon hearing Armin's unsolicited advice, gripping the coffee table's edge so hard his knuckles turned a bright shade of milky white. "I'm not accepting the transfer because you suggest it. I can't just turn my feelings off immediately, either! You're asking something I don't want and something impossible because you don't want to accept the risks," Jean accused. 

Crying had never been so hard to ward off in his life - Armin truly didn't deserve Jean's persistence. What immoral crimes had Armin committed in a past life to warrant this perfect, stunning, confident man in front of him wholeheartedly confess his feelings towards him, only to be bound by social and professional laws to reject him continuously? He continued to want him so desperately, so feverishly, when Jean should have stopped the moment Armin reacted negatively. 

"I'm sorry, Jean," Armin apologised with painful, genuine remorse. "I feel that the risk we'd be willing to bear is larger than the reward to us both. As a member of the Survey Corps, and your analyst, I have to ignore your feelings...and mine, too." 

"What the hell is going through your head? As a member of the Survey Corps and my analyst?" Jean repeated in protest. Despite how angry the statement made him, Jean knew Armin felt awful about everything he was saying, which is why he was trying _so_ hard to reach him. "Armin, I'm not saying I'm in love with a soldier; I'm saying that I'm in love with you!"

Armin physically cringed, vehemently disappointing Jean to the point of crippling insecurity. "And I'm saying a relationship between us won't be possible," he countered quietly. 

"You can't even stand to be my friend?" Jean questioned, utterly shocked that Armin would place such a permanent boundary between them. 

"You know as well as I do that it'll hurt you to pretend like nothing happened. Giving up the position of your dream for feelings or a relationship is foolish. So...I'm giving you permission, if that's what you want. I don't feel the same, so now you have permission to join the Military Police," Armin granted. "Would that make you happy?"

"No, it wouldn't! Would you really rather be unhappy for the rest of your life than take a few risks with me? For me? Would you rather be a slave to a possibility that might not become actual?" Jean interrogated with a cutting tone. 

"Yes!" Armin finally stared back at Jean, stubborn blue eyes burning. 

"No!" Jean angrily dismissed his intentions, brow furrowed with an intense, astounded frown. He shook his head firmly, glaring into his eyes again. "That's fucked up and idiotic!"

"It might be but it's what I want," he argued. Armin's internal conflict seemed to be targeted by Jean - though his actions may be selflessly sacrificial, no favours were being granted to either of the men involved. Sighing deeply, his voice dropped to a borderline whisper. His shoulders slumped to an insecure hunch, and his stomach sunk to its rueful pits. "I also want to placate as many people as possible, even if it means...casting my desires aside."

"What about me, though?" Jean splayed a tense hand over his chest, gesturing to himself. He wanted to feel visible under Armin's azure, discordant eyes through his harsh questioning. "You'd want me to transfer to another sector, separating both of us, and to sacrifice my happiness because you're too scared to potentially disappoint anybody?"

"No, I don't want you to sacrifice your happiness..." Armin admonished lightly. 

"Are your supposed feelings towards me, even only as a friend, so dull or non-existent that you'd be happy to assume you're satisfying everybody _but_ me?" He probed. 

Eyes sliding shut to hide the hot, stinging tears that welled up in his eyes, Armin's expression ever so slightly contorted to a pained grimace. "That's so unfair, and so mean, to ask me that. The risk will lessen if we're separated; that's all," he sighed deeply. 

"Fine. If this is what you want, then I'll listen. But you have to do something for me first," Jean demanded. He was so finished with this bullshit, and the heart-breaking agony he felt, and would rather end things quickly like a knife to the throat. "If you do what I say, right now, I'll decide that we won't owe each other anything from this point on, and I'll do whatever you think is right, okay?"

A look of panic crossed Armin's features for a split second. His eyes shot open to reveal the wet wall of tears covering them. "Wh...What do you want?" Armin requested, frail and feeble. 

"Just...look at me, right now," Jean invited with a tone that indicated he was not going to accept any excuses. 

Jean moved closer to him, bringing a thrilling rush of adrenaline and anxiety through Armin, evident by his blushing face. "I-I'm not-" He barely mumbled as Jean sighed heavily. 

"-Armin, _please_ for _once_ don't overthink this," Jean literally, pitifully, desperately, begged on his knees. He was on his _knees_ in front of the blonde seconds away from grasping his shoulders and forcing his head if Armin didn't comply. That would scare him off as though he were a skittish wild animal nursing its wounds. "Look at me..."

Although, Jean couldn't just look at Armin upon meeting his morose gaze, accompanied by his typical, acute-angled head tilt to the right and wide-eyed curiosity. He seemingly allowed himself to drown, suffocate and be consumed...somehow rather pleasantly, in Armin's wet ocean coloured irises. His cheeks were so flushed, and probably pleasantly warm to the touch. His lips, slightly parted, seemed to allow no air to pass as his throat was blocking it in anticipation. 

"Look at me and tell me that you're rejecting me. Tell me that what you _truly_ want is for me to join the Military Police because you're scared, or you're apprehensive, or you think it's best, or...you just don't feel the same about me and you'd feel uncomfortable with me around," Jean slowly requested. The coldness evident in his voice was hard for either one of them to handle, but it was necessary. "Tell me that, and I'll stop pushing you. I'll believe whatever you tell me. I'll go back to the office first thing on Monday morning, rescind my rejection, and transfer immediately. Okay?"

Fear flashed through Jean's eyes as Armin shallowly inhaled in preparation to speak. The anxiety and true terror Jean experienced that day remained unparalleled; nothing shook him to his core faster than an unpredictable, manipulative Armin on the brink of repeating a phrase Jean desperately conjured on the spot to seal their fates forever. Jean's future flashed before his eyes, and though every scene contained the blonde by his side (as it should have always been), he trusted that Armin would come to his senses. And he was right, Armin _couldn't do it._

No matter what, Armin couldn't sacrifice that part of himself. Jean's words continued to assault his mind; lying and participating with Jean's ultimatum would end up hurting Jean in the end and force him into an undesirable situation. After everything, Jean deserved better, but Armin couldn't deny that some twisted, sentimental aspect of himself assured himself that Jean deserved what would make him happy, and complete, and what he'd already passionately fought for from the outset of this emotional day. And that was Armin. 

"I can't..." Armin whispered as he finally relented, shaking his head slowly. His head ducked down, chin against his chest, as if his neck suddenly surrendered to the weight his head head. Relief - sweet, cold relief - crashed over him like a cooling, salt-laced ocean wave. "I can't say that to you."

Jean's features brightened with a pitiful, comforting smile. "You mean that?" He murmured, awestruck. 

"Yeah," Armin aceeded. His reply sounded more airy than he meant it to. The weight of his suppression freed his lungs and diaphragm so he could breathe again; and Armin took advantage of that. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I wasn't fair before, and I'm not being fair whatsoever. But I feel like no matter what I decide, I'm going to be unfair to somebody."

"You can't expect to please everybody, Armin," he reminded as gently as he could manage.

"I know, I know!" Armin sighed ruefully, fingers ranking across his skull, through his hair, in a stressful fashion. He could feel Jean's eyes staring at the top of his head patiently waiting to look at his face and drown in his honesty. "As much as I'd like to, it's impossible..."

"Hey," Jean prompted once more. "You don't need to worry about that, just...talk to me. Like I asked you before: what do you want?"

"I want...to be fair to you," Armin admitted. Swallowing hard while adopting a maudlin, but contented, smile, Armin embraced his desires, instead of abandoning his expectations and his fears with everything inconsequential. The change in expression erupted a sense of pride within Jean. Taking advantage of their intimate closeness, he rested his forehead against Jean's in one slow, smooth, and gentle motion. Armin found his heart racing, pushing itself beyond capacity, at such simple contact. "I'm in love with you, too. I'm so, so sorry for forcing you on this asinine roundabout journey to get here." 

"I forgive you. It's alright," Jean assured as he immediately accepted the blonde's apology. 

"I'm still worried about some things, but I'm sure they'll be manageable, right?" Armin's soft proclamation unknowingly eased their respective anxieties and successfully melted any tension that shrouded Jean's small living room. Everything in the room - Jean's possessions, past memories of time spent together at the low coffee table, his living space, the romantic amber-toned firelight supplied by the small lantern in the corner of the room - was _warm_. Even Jean's body heat, from the simple contact of his forehead, supplied Armin with a delicious internal warmth that he'd never experienced before. Hesitance still troubled their intentions, too afraid to touch, too afraid to move lest the situation suddenly change, but they were content, evident through their identical affectionate, but shaky, smiles. 

"Of course they will. I've thought about it too, for a long time and I get it, it's fucking scary," Jean responded, a part of him somewhat anticipating the challenge. "I understand why you were hesitant, and I don't blame you."

"Thank you...for being so merciful about this," Armin murmured. 

"It's okay. I might sound arrogant, but I think you made the right choice. I'm glad you made this one," the brunette complimented, resurrecting the lump in Armin's throat. 

As he slowly pulled back from Jean, a tear ran down his flushed cheek as if metaphorically representing his catharsis and absolutely everything he desired to sacrifice for Jean. Appreciatively recognising his sacrifice, Jean, like it was a job he had anxiously waited to commence his entire life, solemnly cupped his face to catch the wet tear on the tip of his gingerly moving, tanned thumb. The teardrop seemed to sit stationary for a moment and subsequently quivered against the warm, breathy sigh Armin expelled. His eyes became messy with a thick wall of unshed tears, almost daringly threatening to dampen his face but Jean didn't mind - he'd continue to catch them. 

"I swear I won't cry every time an emotional topic comes up," he promised, though if becoming tearful lead to the soothing thumb repeatedly, lovingly stroking his cheekbone, then Armin's promise may have to be broken in the future. 

With a crooked, comforting grin and a nonchalant shrug, Jean decided he absolutely adored this sentimental, vulnerable aspect of Armin he'd never displayed to anybody. "Eh, don't worry about it," he dismissed easily, smile impulsively growing as Armin's self-consciousness disappeared over time. "I find it cute."

Armin's breath hitched in his trachea, immediately glancing between Jean's half-lidded chocolate hued eyes. How could a simple, genuine compliment forge such an _intense_ , addictive feeling within him? 

Somehow, for the first time ever, suave and confidence weren't radiating from Jean or clinging to his words, but rather revealing somebody...sweeter, strikingly timorous and merciful than Armin expected in a tender, romantic setting. The notion touched him somewhere so deep and foreign in his body that Armin momentarily convinced himself he was stuck in the longest, loneliest trance he'd experienced, still aimlessly wandering through the packed streets of the village, deep in thought regarding Jean's potential transfer. Jean's warm, giving hand resting on his cheek, quickly adapting to the curves of his face, kept Armin grounded at the moment between them. 

"I know you don't want to continue hearing this, but I really am sorry," Armin quietly apologised - again, because he truly needed to express his regret - while sliding to rest his palm along the back of Jean's hand on his face. 

The sad, strained smile Armin wore tugged at Jean's sympathetic heartstrings. "Don't let it eat at you, Ar, I get why you said what you said," he reassured. 

"I won't, I promise, but I wanted to say that about before, I did want to be honest with you, but I also wanted you to be happy," Armin explained as the hot ardent tears pricked in his eyes once more. Then, with a tearful smile and the grip of Jean's wrist, Armin happily nuzzled his cheek deeper into Jean's palm. "If transferring to the military police would truly fulfil you, then I'd be okay...eventually. But, if you believe that being with me will make you happiest, then I'll try my hardest, okay? I swear to you." 

"God, you're a dumbass," Jean laughed exuberantly in an attempt to mollify the painful lump in his throat, and coax his disobedient tears back into their ducts. Armin's opposite cheek was cupped by Jean's other hand, glad to be circularly surrounded by his warmth. "You already make me happy."

Exchanging an equally rapturous grin with Jean, Armin finally felt at ease. "I'm glad," he acknowledged. "Then, I swear to you that I'll keep doing what I'm doing." 

Every single detail evident on Armin's face - the reappearing freckles across the bridge of his curved, button nose, how his teary eyes glinted and sparkled when he looked at Jean, his slight purple under eyes contrasting his pale porcelain skin - burned themselves into Jean's mind as he brought him closer to kiss him for the first time. Neither of them was able to relax their ecstatic, affectionate smiles to stay together for long or make contact at all. It didn't matter; they were in no rush. 

After a couple of surplus attempts, interrupted by gentle, half-hearted scoldings and muffled chuckling (which, ironically, only served to exacerbate the mood between them), Jean, finally, _finally_ , managed to interlock his lips with Armin's, and _God,_ was Jean thankful his heart didn't burst from his ribcage, nor did his shaking, trembling limbs betray his strength. The kiss played like a direct scene from Jean's imagination, a live hallucination, but alive. He _felt_ alive. Everything about the sweet blonde crumbled Jean's nerve; how pacific Armin felt, but how eager his reactions appeared, how the physical reassurance expelled any sliver of doubt that existed within Jean's psyche. All in all, the difficulty arose when Jean could barely hold his composure. 

Jean dropped his hands from Armin's face to hug him tightly instead, arms firmly locked like a harness around his back. His face buried itself between the shapely crook between Armin's shoulder and neck like the space had been crafted for him. No matter what actions he performed, Jean couldn't calm himself in Armin's presence. 

"Thank you..." Jean mumbled gratefully against the soft, comforting fabric of Armin's white buttoned-up shirt. "You won't regret this." The itchy shoulder straps roughly pressed into Jean's forehead, catching some stray tears within their grooves. He'd never needed to be so claustrophobically close to somebody, to Armin, before, especially as he accepted Armin's arms around his shoulders for the second time that day. As if deathly afraid Armin would flippantly change his mind, Jean unconsciously found his fingers twisting and clutching his shirt to burrow himself further into his small body. No hug between them had ever been this intimate, nor had Jean feeling woozy, nauseous and euphoric simultaneously. 

"I won't, I know," Armin acknowledged, finding solace in Jean's verbal and physical reassurances. Jean's short hair, as he smoothly raked his fingers through his brunette locks, tickled his palm and fingertips. Wholly beholden, Jean all but squeezed Armin's lithe body within their confines. Armin held no qualms receiving Jean's body weight against him. 

Loosening his embrace and tilting his head to kiss Jean again, Armin could barely keep his wits about him when Jean's strong, capable hands grabbed him and held him in such a way that was so, _so_ comforting and affectionate. Just how long did Jean's feelings for him remain uncloaked within his mind? His revelation through the kiss rendered Armin completely breathless. Armin swore he practically tasted the sincerity and depth of Jean's infatuation on his tongue, his lips, his neck, God, _anywhere_ on his relishable skin he could detect. Finding himself unable to suppress his verbal praise of fondness and admiration in the kiss, Armin murmured that he loved Jean for the first time. 

Jean's tongue remained slack against his teeth for the first time, unable to immediately comment back. Relief, or even disbelief, shocked him. 

"I love you, too," Jean replied truthfully, sliding his eyes open a touch to visually locate Armin's hands resting in his lap and grasp them within his own. Countering Jean's evident embarrassment with a radiant beam, Armin squeezed his fingers back with reassurance. "I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to tell you sooner." 

"Yeah, me too," Armin nodded, as least disruptively as he could while against Jean's forehead, in agreement. "I...seriously don't know how I would've lived with myself if my decision forced you to join the Military Police. You would've been miserable, right? Just because I didn't have the courage to make an independent decision based on how I feel." In the attempt to avoid wavering or quivering his voice, or shed more anguished tears that afternoon, Armin knew he'd never been closer to properly crying until now. 

Jean sensed the emotional build-up, greatly affected by his sadness. Vulnerability never inspired self-consciousness within him, but a massive, humongous part of his soul longed to be emotionally strong for Armin. 

"As I said, I'm not going hold it against you. In my own selfish way, I probably would've ignored the agreement I'd made and stubbornly refused to transfer. It's because..." Jean gulped, unable to stop the uncontrolled, shaky sigh. "I _always_ had to be with you, Armin." 

Despite his unyielding, strong previous composure, as soon as Jean's touching words penetrated his eardrums, Armin crumbled. He dropped his face into his hands in the attempt to muffle his uncontrollable crying and sobbing that painfully rattled his chest. Nothing about Jean's words came across as particularly upsetting. Still, after hearing absolutely everything Jean hid, Armin's emotional state lacked the ability to contain his joy, his regret and his affections. Armin realised the words were something he'd been yearning to hear from Jean for a long, long time. 

The mere sight made Jean tear up too, for similar reasons. Their relationship hit against the anxiety-inducing, theoretical point of no return - how could they return to platonic, unassuming friends after this revelation? Jean tightly encompassed his crying form against him, vision cloudy with tears that stained Armin's white shirt to a transparent state. Ultimately, a learning curve learning how to operate with each other inevitably existed, but Jean held no doubts that they would be absolutely fine. 

Especially as he felt Armin return the hug after calming down. The tumultuous, emotional few hours had officially been left in the past. 

"Okay...I'm okay, now," Armin decided with a small sniffle, wiping his flushed, tear-stained face with the back of his hand. A happy sigh left him as Jean's diligent thumb contributed to drying his overflowing tears. "I won't cry anymore from now on, I promise."

"You implied that, like, ten minutes ago," Jean pointed out, laughing lightly when Armin's apologetic smile flashed sheepish undertones. "It's okay; I cried too. We're both cry-babies! So it's like we're practically made for each other!"

"Mm, you're probably right about that," he agreed. Giddy as Jean verbalised the expression formerly reserved for Connie and Sasha's relationship, Armin realised he could definitely become accustomed to hearing that about their new, budding relationship. 

* * *

Two weeks passed since Marco assumed he'd thoughtlessly, through no fault of his own, placed an irreparable hurdle on Jean's and Armin's friendship. Two weeks passed since a transfer contract had been supplied to, then denied by Jean. Two weeks passed since Armin, wrecked with insecure betrayal, discovered he was the last person who knew about the aforementioned contract. Judging by the reactions his two close friends displayed leaving the Survey Corps base for the weekend two weeks ago, Marco expected a massive, inevitable argument accompanied by uneasy tension and stewing resentment the following Monday morning. 

None of that occurred, however. Surprisingly enough, everything between Jean and Armin remained quiet. Pleasant, in fact. 

The nail-biting suspenseful walk home and weekend Marco endured, leaving him exhausted and overwrought by the beginning of the week, seemed to be in vain. As usual, the moment Marco walked through the door to the office, Jean and Armin greeted him with warm, blameless smiles before classes commenced. No animosity, resentment, nor bitterness existed. The outcome of the situation rebelled against Marco's assumption - being Armin easily convincing Jean to accept his transfer. 

Upon questioning the two, Jean insisted that he was content with his life and his career, much to Marco's disbelief. He foolishly expected a dramatic recount of their tumultuous weekend together, uncharacteristically arguing up a storm before settling. One thing that continued to baffle Marco was Armin's involvement...or perhaps lackthereof. 

Armin's reasoning skills could persuade _anybody_ of _anything_ (he did rightfully earn his title as the Survey Corps' valuable analyst, after all), so what occurred for Armin's tactics to fall short? There was no reason for Marco to doubt Armin's attempts in at least weighing Jean's options through with him. But, also, what exactly did Jean tell him to force Armin to stop insisting? Although observing how content they both appeared while teaching and guiding their cohort, Marco also wondered if Armin potentially held back from convincing Jean. What about Jean's future, which he absolutely missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime, filled Armin with hesitance?

But Armin wouldn't be that meek, right? 

Marco continuously became quietly perplexed by their odd reactions when another Survey Corps member approached Jean about his rejection. Marco wasn't stupid; the moment the conflict had been created, Armin became upset, while Jean reacted with avoidance. Hell, the first time Marco heard Jean's reasoning had been when Jean recounted his explanation to a co-worker - his satisfaction with his current career. Either way, Marco allowed the thought to wallow absentmindedly in the back of his head. He wasn't one to possess nosy tendencies, but Marco decided he'd sacrifice the entire right side of his body to be a fly on the wall for Jean's and Armin's conversation. 

Alarm bells continued to chime in Marco's head, the sound of millions of unanswered questions and blind assumptions reverberating off of his skull. His deductions of a fallout, based off of his friends' predictability, fell short, and while Marco wasn't upset about the lack of argument in the slightest, he couldn't help but feel the situation forced Jean and Armin...closer together. Or perhaps Marco needed to polish his observational skills. Whatever happened between them, relief was the primary emotion he experienced. If the misunderstanding created a rift between Jean and Armin, Marco wouldn't know how to fix their friendship. 

It had been two weeks since Marco accidentally stirred feelings within Jean and Armin, yet he had no idea. And, if Jean and Armin decide to keep quiet, he most likely never will.

The afternoon sun shone along the office desk he was borrowing. Usually, the warm honey light excited him, invigorated him, for the weekend. Today, it reminded him of that confusing, emotional afternoon, as well as taunting him that something was occurring that he knew absolutely nothing about. As if on cue, Jean and Armin appeared at the door, cutting off their previous conversation in favour of addressing him. They appeared like two peas in an inseparable pod. 

"Hey, Marco. Ready to head off?" Jean prompted with a lively voice. Equally as excited as each other, this would mark the first opportunity in _months_ that Connie's and Sasha's schedules managed to align with their Survey Corps friends. "Do you still have more work to do?"

"No, no. I'm finished," Marco answered, gathering his belongings before joining his friends in the doorframe. 

"Connie and Sasha will probably already be there. We got out of the meeting a little later than we expected, too," Armin informed. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting for too long."

"You didn't keep me waiting for long. I was let out a few minutes earlier than you," Marco assured. The spring afternoon light penetrated the hallways in its typical daily performance as they traipsed down the hallway. Watching Jean and Armin carelessly interact with each other launched Marco back to his baffled thoughts. Perhaps one, or both, of them created an agreement surrounding their argument? Whatever it was, his friends appeared more fulfilled than ever before, so Marco put it to rest for the time being. If Marco's input or knowledge was required, they would have divulged in an instant. 

_Somehow_ , Marco smiled as he observed his two guarded, but happy friends, _I still feel like the situation is more complex than what I'm seeing._


End file.
